THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 

Peter  Scott 


THE    NOVELS   AND    ROMANCES 

OF 

EDWARD  BULWER  LYTTON 

(LORD    LYTTON) 


i^antip  Eibrarp  €tiitioti 


HAROLD 


She  haa  ,^one  from  them  alone,  and  was  lost  in  that 
dreadful  wilderness. 

Harold. 


THE  •  NOVELL 

AND  •  ROM/\NCE.S 

Sf 
EDWARD  •  BULWER 

LYTTON 

(LORD  LYTTON) 
HAROLD 


BOSTON 

LITTLE  •  BROWN 
and    COMPANY 


DEDICATORY    EPISTLE 


TO    THE 


RIGHT   HON.    C.  T.  D'EYNCOURT,  M.P. 


I  DEDICATE  to  jou,  my  dear  friend,  a  work,  principally 
compoyed  under  your  hospitable  roof  ;  and  to  the  mate- 
rials of  which  your  library,  rich,  in  the  authorities  I  most 
needed,  largely  contributed. 

The  idea  of  founding  an  historical  romance  on  an  event 
so  important  and  so  national  as  the  Norman  Invasion,  I 
had  long  entertained,  and  the  chronicles  of  that  time  had 
long  been  familiar  to  me.  But  it  is  an  old  habit  of  mine 
to  linger  over  the  plan  and  subject  of  a  work,  for  years, 
perhaps,  before  the  work  has,  in  truth,  advanced  a  sen- 
tence ;  "  busying  myself,"  as  old  Burton  saith,  "  with 
this  playing  labor  —  otiosdque  dilige7itid  id  vitarem  tor- 
por em  feriandi." 

The  main  consideration  which  long  withheld  me  from 
the  task,  was  in  my  sense  of  the  unfamiliarity  of  the 
ordinary  reader  with  the  characters,  events,  and,  so  to 
speak,  with  the  very  physiognomy  of  a  period  ante 
Agaiiiemtiona ;  before  the  brilliant  age  of  matured  chiv- 
alry, which  has  given  to  song  and  romance  tlie  deeds  of 
the  later  knighthood,  and  the  glorious  frenzy  of  the  Cru- 
sades. The  Norman  Conquest  was  our  Trojan  War,  an 
epoch  beyond  which  our  learning  seldom  induces  our 
imagination  to  ascend. 


999.7r>fi2 


Vm  DEDICATORY    EPISTLE. 

reasons  for  my  alterations  will  be  sufficiently  obvious  in  a 
work  intended  not  only  for  general  perusal,  but  which  on 
many  accounts,  I  hope,  may  be  intrusted  fearlessly  to  the 
young;  Avhile  those  alterations  are  in  strict  accordance 
with  the  spirit  of  the  time,  and  tend  to  illustrate  one  of 
its  most  marked  peculiarities. 

More  apology  is  perhaps  due  for  the  liberal  use  to 
which  I  have  applied  the  superstitions  of  the  age.  But 
with  the  age  itself  those  superstitions  are  so  interwoven 
—  they  meet  us  so  constantly,  whether  in  the  pages  of 
our  own  chroniclers,  or  the  records  of  the  kindred  Scan- 
dinavians —  they  are  so  intruded  into  the  very  laws,  so 
blended  with  the  very  life,  of  our  Saxon  forefathers,  that 
without  employing  them,  in  somewhat  of  the  same  credu- 
lous spirit  with  which  they  were  originally  conceived,  no 
vivid  impression  of  the  People  they  influenced  can  be 
conveyed.  Not  without  truth  has  an  Italian  writer 
remarked,  "  that  he  who  would  dei)ict  philosoi>hically  an 
unphilosophical  age,  shouhl  remember  that,  to  be  familiar 
with  children,  one  must  sometimes  think  and  feel  as  a 
child." 

Yet  it  has  not  been  my  main  endeavor  to  make  these 
ghostly  agencies  conducive  to  the  ordinary  poetical  pur- 
poses of  terror  ;  and  if  that  effect  be  at  all  created  by 
them,  it  will  be,  I  apprehend,  rather  subsidiary  to  the 
more  historical  sources  of  interest,  than  in  itself  a  leading 
or  popular  characteristic  of  the  work.  My  object,  indeed, 
in  the  introduction  of  the  Danish  Vala  especially,  has 
been  perhaps  as  much  addressed  to  the  reason  as  to 
the  fancy,  in  showing  what  large,  if  dim,  remains  of 
the  ancient  "  heatlienesse  "  still  kept  their  ground  on  the 
Saxon  soil,  contending  with,  and  contrasting  the  monkish 
superstitions,  l)y  wliich  they  were  nltimately  replaced. 
Hilda  is  not  in  liistory  ;  but  witliout  the  romantic  imper- 


DEDICATORY    EPISTLE.  IX 

sonation  of  that  ■which  Hilda  represents,  the  history  of 
the  time  would  be  imperfectly  understood. 

In  the  character  of  Harold  —  while  I  have  carefully 
examined  and  weighed  tlie  scanty  evidences  of  its  distin- 
guishing attributes  which  are  yet  preserved  to  us  ;  and, 
in  spite  of  no  unnatural  partiality,  have  not  concealed 
what  appear  to  me  its  deficiencies,  and  still  less  the  great 
error  of  the  life  it  illustrates  —  I  have  attempted,  some- 
what and  slightly,  to  shadow  out  the  ideal  of  the  pure 
Saxon  character,  such  as  it  was  tlien,  with  its  large  quali- 
ties undeveloped,  but  marked  already  by  patient  endur- 
ance, love  of  justice,  and  freedom  —  the  manly  sense  of 
duty  rather  than  the  chivalric  sentiment  of  honor  —  and 
that  indestructible  element  of  practical  purpose  and  cour- 
ageous will,  which,  defying  all  conquest,  and  steadfast  in 
all  peril,  was  ordained  to  achieve  so  vast  an  influence 
over  the  destinies  of  the  world. 

To  the  Norman  Duke,  I  believe,  I  have  been  as  lenient 
as  justice  will  permit,  though  it  is  as  impossible  to  deny 
his  craft  as  to  dispute  his  genius  ;  and  so  far  as  the  scope 
of  my  work  would  allow,  I  trust  that  I  have  indicated 
fairly  the  grand  characteristics  of  his  countrymen,  more 
truly  chivalric  than  their  lord.  It  has  happened,  unfor- 
tunately for  that  illustrious  race  of  men,  that  they  have 
seemed  to  us,  in  England,  represented  by  the  Anglo- 
Norman  kings.  The  fierce  and  plotting  William,  the 
vain  and  worthless  Rufus,  the  cold  blooded  and  relentless 
Henry,  are  no  adequate  representatives  of  the  far  nobler 
Norman  vavasours,  whom  even  the  English  Chronicler 
admits  to  have  been  "kind  masters,"  and  to  whom,  in 
spite  of  their  kings,  the  after-liberties  of  England  were  so 
largely  indebted.  But  this  work  closes  on  the  Field  of 
Hastings  ;  and  in  that  noble  struggle  for  national  inde- 
pendence, the  sympathies  of  every  true  son  of  the  land, 


X  DEDICATORY    EPISTLE. 

even  if  tracing  his  lineage  back  to  the  ISTorman  victor, 
must  be  on  the  side  of  the  patriot  Harold. 

In  the  notes,  which  I  have  thought  necessary  aids  to 
the  better  comprehension  of  these  volumes,  my  only  wish 
has  been  to  convey  to  the  general  reader  such  illustrative 
information  as  may  familiarize  him  more  easily  with  the 
subject-matter  of  the  book,  or  refresh  his  memory  on 
incidental  details  not  without  a  national  interest.  In  the 
mere  references  to  authorities  I  do  not  pretend  to  arrogate 
to  a  fiction  the  proper  character  of  a  liistory  ;  the  refer- 
ences are  chiefly  used  either  where  wishing  pointedly  to 
distinguish  from  invention  what  was  borrowed  from  a 
chronicle,  or,  when  differing  from  some  popular  historian 
to  whom  the  reader  might  be  likely  to  refer,  it  seemed 
well  to  state  the  authority  upon  which  the  difference 
was  founded.^ 

In  fact,  my  main  object  has  been  one  that  compelled 
me  to  admit  graver  matter  than  is  common  in  romance, 
but  which  I  would  fain  hope  may  be  saved  from  the 
charge  of  dulness  by  some  national  sympathy  between 
author  and  reader  ;  my  object  is  attained,  and  attained 
only,  if  in  closing  the  last  page  of  this  work,  the  reader 
shall  find,  that  in  spite  of  the  fictitious  materials  admitted, 
he  has  formed  a  clearer  and  more  intimate  acquaintance 
with  a  time,  heroic  though  remote,  and  characters  which 
ought  to  have  a  household  interest  to  Englishmen,  than 
the  succinct  accounts  of  the  mere  historian  could  possibly 
afford  him. 

Thus,  my  dear  DEyncourt,  under  cover  of  an  address 
to  yourself,  have  I  made  to  the  Public  those  explanations 
which  authors  in  general  (and  I  not  the  least  so)  are  often 
over-anxi  ous  t(j  render. 

1  Notes  less  immediately  neces.sary  to  the  context,  or  too  lon^ 
not  to  interfere  with  the  cunx'iit  of  the  narrative,  are  thrown  to  tlie 
end  of  each  volume. 


DEDICATORY    EPISTLE.  XI 

This  task  done,  my  thoughts  naturally  fly  back  to  the 
associations  I  connected  with  your  name  when  I  placed  it 
at  the  head  of  this  epistle.  Again  I  seem  to  find  myself 
luider  your  friendly  roof  ;  again  to  greet  my  provident 
host  entering  that  Gothic  chamber  in  which  I  had  been 
jjermitted  to  establish  my  unsocial  study,  heralding  the 
advent  of  majestic  folios,  and  heaping  liliraries  round  the 
unworthy  work.  Again,  pausing  from  my  labor,  I  look 
through  that  castle  casement,  and  beyond  that  feudal 
moat,  over  the  broad  landscapes,  which,  if  I  err  not,  took 
their  name  from  the  proud  brother  of  the  Conqueror  him- 
self :  or  when,  in  those  winter  nights,  the  grim  old  tapes- 
try waved  in  the  dim  recesses,  I  hear  again  the  Saxon 
thegn  winding  his  horn  at  the  turret  door,  and  demand- 
ing admittance  to  the  halls  from  which  the  prelate  of 
Bayeux  had  so  unrighteously  expelled  him  -^ —  what  mar- 
vel that  I  lived  in  the  times  of  which  I  wrote,  Saxon 
with  the  Saxon,  Norman  with  the  Norman  — that  I  entered 
into  no  gossip  less  venerable  than  that  current  at  the 
Court  of  the  Confessor,  or  startled  my  fellow-guests  (when 
I  deigned  to  meet  them)  with  the  last  news  which 
Harold's  spies  had  brought  over  from  the  Camp  at  St. 
Valery  ?  With  all  those  folios,  giants  of  the  gone  world, 
rising  around  me  daily,  more  and  more,  higher  and  higher 
—  Ossa  upon  Pelion  —  on  chair  and  table,  hearth  and 
floor  ;  invasive  as  Normans,  indomitable  as  Saxons,  and 
tall  as  the  tallest  Danes  (ruthless  host,  I  behold  them 
still!)  —  with  all  those  disburied  spectres  rampant  in  the 
chamljer,  all  the  armor  rusting  in  thy  galleries,  all  those 
mutilated  statues  of  early  English  kings  (including  St. 
Edward  himself)  niched  into  thy  gray,  ivied  walls — say 

1  There  is  a  legend  attached  to  my  friend's  house,  that  on  cer- 
tain nights  in  the  year,  Eric  the  Saxon  winds  liis  horn  at  the  dooi: 
and,  in  forma  spectri,  serves  his  notice  of  ejectment. 


Xir  DEDICATORY    EPISTLE. 

in  thy  conscience,  0  host,  (if  indeed  that  conscience  be 
not  wholly  callous  !)  shall  I  ever  return  to  the  nineteenth 
century  again  ? 

But  far  beyond  these  recent  associations  of  a  single 
winter  (for  which  heaven  assoil  thee  !)  goes  the  memory 
of  a  friendship  of  many  winters,  and  proof  to  the  storms 
of  all.  Often  have  I  come  for  advice  to  your  wisdom, 
and  sympathy  to  your  heart,  bearing  back  with  me,  in  all 
such  seasons,  new  increase  to  that  pleasurable  gratitude 
which  is,  perhaps,  the  rarest,  nor  the  least  happy  senti- 
ment, that  experience  leaves  to  man.  Some  differences, 
it  may  be,  —  whether  on  those  2:)ublic  questions  which  we 
see  every  day  alienating  friendships  that  should  have 
been  beyond  the  reach  of  laws  and  kings;  —  or  on  the 
more  scholastic  controversies  which  as  keenly  interest  the 
minds  of  educated  men,  —  may  at  times  deny  to  us  the 
idem  velle,  atque  idern  nolle ;  but  the  firma  amicitia  needs 
not  those  common  links  :  the  sunshine  does  not  leave  the 
wave  for  the  slight  rii)ple  which  the  casual  stone  brings 
a  moment  to  the  surface. 

Accept  in  this  dedication  of  a  Avork  which  has  lain  so 
long  on  my  mind,  and  been  endeared  to  me  from  many 
causes,  the  token  of  an  affection  for  you  and  yours, 
siiong  as  the  ties  of  kindred,  and  lasting  as  the  belief 
in  iruth. 

E.   B.    L. 


PREFACE. 


The  author  of  an  able  and  learned  article  on  Mabillon,* 
in  the  "  Edinburgh  Review,"  has  accurately  described  my 
aim  in  this  work  ;  although,  with  that  generous  courtesy 
which  characterizes  the  true  scholar,  in  referring  to  the 
labors  of  a  contemporary  he  has  overrated  my  success. 
It  was  indeed  my  aim  "  to  solve  the  problem  how  to  pro- 
duce the  greatest  amount  of  dramatic  effect  at  the  least 
expense  of  historical  truth,"  —  I  borrow  the  words  of  the 
reviewer,  since  none  other  could  so  tersely  express  ray 
design,  or  so  clearly  account  for  the  leading  characteristics 
in  its  conduct  and  completion. 

There  are  two  ways  of  employing  the  materials  of  his- 
tory in  the  service  of  romance  :  the  one  consists  in  lend- 
ing to  ideal  personages,  and  to  an  imaginary  fable,  the 
additional  interest  to  be  derived  from  historical  group- 
ings ;  the  other  in  extracting  the  main  interest  of  romantic 
narrative  from  history  itself.  Those  who  adopt  the  for- 
mer mode  are  at  liberty  to  exclude  all  that  does  not  con- 
tribute to  theatrical  effect  or  picturesque  composition ; 
their  fidelity  to  the  period  they  select  is  towards  the 
manners  and  costume,  not  towards  the  precise  order  of 

1  The  "Edinburgh  Review,"  No.  CLXXIX.,  January,  1849, 
Art.  I.  "  Correspoudauce  iuedite,  de  Mabillou  et  de  Moutfaucon, 
avec  ritalie."     Par  M.  Valery.     Paris,  1848. 


XIV  PREFACE, 

events,  the  moral  causes  from  which  the  events  pro- 
ceeded, and  the  pliysical  agencies  by  w^hich  they  were 
influenced  and  controlled.  The  plan  thus  adopted  is 
unquestionably  the  more  popular  and  attractive ;  and, 
being  favored  hj  the  most  illustrious  writers  of  historical 
romance,  there  is  presumptive  reason  for  supposing  it  to 
1)6  also  that  which  is  the  more  agreeable  to  the  art  of 
fiction. 

But  he  who  wishes  to  avoid  the  ground  preoccupied  by 
others,  and  claim  in  the  world  of  literature  some  spot, 
however  humble,  which  he  may  "  plough  with  his  own 
heifer,"  will  seek  to  establish  himself  not  where  the  land 
is  the  most  fertile,  but  where  it  is  the  least  enclosed. 
So,  when  I  first  turned  m}-^  attention  to  historical 
romance,  my  main  aim  was  to  avoid  as  much  as  possible 
those  fairer  portions  of  the  soil  that  had  been  appropri- 
ated by  the  first  discoverers.  The  great  author  of  "  Ivan- 
hoe,"  and  those  amongst  whom,  abroad  and  at  home,  his 
mantle  was  divided,  had  employed  history  to  aid 
romance  ;  I  contented  myself  with  the  humbler  task  to 
employ  romance  in  the  aid  of  history,  —  to  extract  from 
authentic  but  neglected  chronicles,  and  the  unfrequented 
storehouse  of  archteology,  the  incidents  and  details  that 
enliven  the  dry  narrative  of  facts  to  which  the  general 
historian  is  confined,  —  construct  my  plot  from  the  actual 
events  themselves,  and  place  the  staple  of  such  interest 
as  I  could  create  in  reciting  the  struggles,  and  delineating 
tiie  characters,  of  those  who  had  been  the  living  actors  in 
the  real  drama.  For  the  main  materials  of  the  three  his- 
torical romances  I  have  composed,  I  consulted  the  original 
authorities  of  the  time  with  a  care  as  scrupulous  as  if 
intending  to  write  not  a  fiction,  but  a  history.  And  hav- 
ing formed  tlie  best  judgment  I  could  of  the  events  and 
characters  of  the  age,  I  adhered  faithfully  to  what,  as  an 


PREFACE,  XV 

historian,  I  should  have  held  to  be  the  true  coxirse  and 
true  causes  of  the  great  political  events,  and  the  essential 
attributes  of  the  principal  agents.  Solely  in  that  inward 
life  Avhich,  not  only  as  apart  from  the  more  public  and 
historical,  but  which,  as  almost  wholly  unknown,  becomes 
the  fair  domain  of  the  poet,  did  I  claim  the  legitimate 
privileges  of  fiction  ;  and  even  here  I  employed  the 
agency  of  the  passions  only  so  far  as  they  served  to  illus- 
trate what  I  believed  to  be  the  genuine  natures  of  the 
beings  who  had  actually  lived,  and  to  restore  the  warmth 
of  the  human  heart  to  the  images  recalled  from  the 
grave. 

Thus,  even  had  I  the  gifts  of  my  most  illustrious  pre- 
decessors, I  should  be  precluded  the  use  of  many  of  the 
more  brilliant.  I  shut  myself  out  from  the  wider  scope 
permitted  to  their  fancy,  and  denied  myself  the  license  to 
choose  or  select  materials,  alter  dates,  vary  causes  and 
eti'ects  according  to  the  convenience  of  that  more  imperial 
fiction  vidiich  invents  the  probable  where  it  discards  the 
real.  The  mode  I  have  adopted  has  perhaps  only  this 
merit,  that  it  is  my  own,  —  mine  by  discovery  and  mine 
by  labor.  And  if  I  can  raise  not  the  spirits  that  obeyed 
the  great  master  of  romance,  nor  gain  the  key  to  the  fairy- 
land that  opened  to  his  spell,  at  least  I  have  not  rifled 
the  tomb  of  the  wizard  to  steal  my  art  from  the  book 
that  lies  clasped  on  his  breast. 

In  treating  of  an  age  with  which  the  general  reader  is 
so  unfamiliar  as  that  preceding  the  Norman  conquest,  it 
is  impossible  to  avoid  (especially  in  the  earlier  portions  of 
my  tale)  those  explanations  of  the  very  character  of  the 
time  which  would  liave  been  unnecessary  if  I  bad  only 
sought  in  history  the  picturesque  accompaniments  to 
romance.  I  have  to  do  more  than  present  an  amusing 
picture  of  national  manners,  —  detail  the  dress,  and  de- 


XVI  PREFACE. 

scribe  the  banquet.  According  to  the  plan  I  adopt,  I 
have  to  make  the  reader  acquainted  with  tlie  imperfect 
fusion  of  races  in  Saxon  England,  familiarize  him  witli 
the  contests  of  parties  and  tlie  ambition  of  chiefs,  show 
him  the  strength  and  the  weakness  of  a  kindly  but  igno- 
rant Church ;  of  a  brave  but  turbulent  aristocracy ;  of  a 
people  partially  free,  and  naturally  energetic,  but  dis- 
united by  successive  immigrations,  and  having  lost  much 
of  the  proud  jealousies  of  national  liberty  by  submission 
to  the  preceding  conquests  of  the  Dane  ;  acquiescent  in 
the  sway  of  foreign  kings,  and  with  that  bulwark  against 
invasion  which  an  hereditary  order  of  aristocracy  usuall}'' 
erects,  loosened  to  its  very  foundations  by  the  copious 
admixture  of  foreign  nobles.  I  have  to  present  to  the 
reader,  here,  the  imbecile  priestcraft  of  the  illiterate 
monk  ;  there,  the  dark  superstition  that  still  consulted 
the  deities  of  the  North  by  runes  on  the  elm-bark  and 
adjurations  of  the  dead.  And  in  contrast  to  these  pic- 
tures of  a  decrepit  monarchy  and  a  fated  race,  I  have  to 
bring  forcibly  before  the  reader  the  vigorous  attributes 
of  the  coming  conquerors, —  the  stern  will  and  deep  guile 
of  the  Norman  chief,  the  comparative  knowledge  of  the 
rising  Norman  Church,  the  nascent  spirit  of  chivalry  in 
tlie  Norman  vavasours  ;  a  spirit  destined  to  emancipate 
the  very  people  it  contributed  to  enslave,  associated,  as 
it  imperfectly  was,  with  the  sense  of  freedom  ;  disdainful, 
it  is  true,  of  the  villein,  but  proudly  curbing,  though  into 
feudal  limits,  the  domination  of  the  liege.  In  a  word,  I 
must  place  fully  before  the  reader,  if  I  would  be  faithful 
to  the  plan  of  my  work,  the  political  and  moral  features 
of  the  age,  as  well  as  its  lighter  and  livelier  attributes, 
and  so  lea<l  him  to  perceive,  when  he  has  closed  the  book, 
why  England  was  conquered,  and  how  P^ngland  survived 
the  Conquest. 


PRKFACE.  XVU 

In  accomplishing  this  task,  I  inevitably  incur  the 
objections  which  the  task  itself  raises  up,  —  objections  to 
the  labor  it  has  cost ;  to  the  information  which  the 
labor  was  undertaken  in  order  to  bestow  ;  objections  to 
passages  which  seem  to  interrupt  the  narrative,  but  which 
in  reality  prepare  for  the  incidents  it  embraces,  or  explain 
the  position  of  the  persons  whose  characters  it  illustrates, 
whose  fate  it  involves ;  objections  to  the  reference  to 
authorities,  where  a  fact  might  be  disputed,  or  mistaken 
for  fiction ;  objections  to  the  use  of  Saxon  words,  for 
■which  no  accurate  synonyms  could  be  exchanged  ;  objec- 
tions, in  short,  to  the  coloring,  conduct,  and  composition 
of  the  whole  work  ;  objections  to  all  that  separate  it  from 
the  common  crowd  of  romances,  and  stamp  on  it,  for 
good  or  for  bad,  a  character  peculiarly  its  own.  Objec- 
tions of  this  kind  I  cannot  remove,  though  I  have  care- 
fully weighed  them  all.  And  with  regard  to  the  objection 
most  important  to  story-teller  and  novel-reader,  —  namely, 
t)ie  dryness  of  some  of  the  earlier  portions,  — ■  though  I 
have  thrice  gone  over  those  passages,  with  the  stern  de- 
termination to  inflict  summary  justice  upon  every  unne- 
cessary line,  I  must  own  to  my  regret  that  I  have  found 
but  little  which  it  was  possible  to  omit  without  rendering 
the  after-narrative  obscure,  and  without  injuring  whatever 
of  more  stirring  interest  the  story,  as  it  opens,  may  afford 
to  the  general  reader  of  romance. 

As  to  the  Saxon  words  used,  an  explanation  of  all  those 
that  can  be  presumed  unintelligible  to  a  person  of  ordi- 
nary education  is  given  either  in  the  text  or  a  foot-note. 
Such  archaisms  are  much  less  numerous  than  certain 
critics  would  fain  represent  them  to  be  ;  and  they  have 
rarely  indeed  been  admitted  where  other  words  could 
have  been  employed  without  a  glaring  anachronism  or  a 
tedious  periphrase.      "Would    it  indeed    be    possible,    for 

VOL.  I.  —  I, 


XVlll  PREFACE. 

instance,  to  convey  a  notion  of  the  customs  and  manners 
of  our  Saxon  forefathers  without  employing  words  so 
mixed  up  with  their  daily  usages  and  modes  of  thinking, 
as  "  weregeld  "  and  "  niddering  "  1  Would  any  words 
from  the  modern  vocabulary  suggest  the  same  idea  or 
embody  the  same  meaning? 

One  critic  good-humoredly  exclaims,  "  We  have  a  full 
attendance  of  thegns  and  cnehts,  but  we  should  have 
liked  much  better  our  old  friends  and  approved  good 
masters,  thanes  and  knights."  Nothing  could  be  more 
apposite  for  my  justification  than  the  instances  here 
quoted  in  censure  ;  nothing  could  more  plainly  vindicate 
the  necessity  of  employing  the  8axon  words.  For  I 
should  sadly  indeed  have  misled  the  reader,  if  I  had  used 
the  word  knight  in  an  age  when  knights  were  wholly 
unknown  to  the  Anglo-Saxon ;  and  cneht  no  more  means 
what  we  understand  by  knight,  than  a  templar,  in  modern 
phrase,  means  a  man  in  chain-mail  vowed  to  celibacy,  and 
the  redemption  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  from  the  hands  of 
the  Mussulman,  While,  since  thegn  and  thane  are  both 
archaisms,  I  prefer  the  former,  not  only  for  the  same 
reason  that  induces  Sir  Francis  Palgrave  to  prefer  it,  — 
namely,  because  it  is  the  more  etymologically  correct,  — 
but  because  we  take  from  our  neighbors  the  Scotch  not 
only  the  word  thane,  but  the  sense  in  which  we  apply  it, 
and  that  sense  is  not  the  same  that  we  ought  to  attach 
to  the  various  and  complicated  notions  of  nobility  which 
the  Anglo-Saxon  comprehended  in  the  title  of  thegn.  It 
has  been  peremptorily  said  by  more  than  one  writer 
in  periodicals,  that  I  have  overrated  the  erudition  of 
William  in  permitting  him  to  know  Latin;  nay,  to  have 
read  the  Comments  of  Csesar  at  the  age  of  eight.  Where 
these  gentlemen  find  the  authorities  to  confute  my  state- 
ment I  know  not ;  all  I  know  is  that  in  tlie  statement  I 


PREFACE.  XIX 

have  followed  the  original  authorities  usually  deemed  the 
best.  And  I  content  myself  with  referring  the  disputants 
to  a  work  not  so  difficult  to  procure  as  (and  certainly 
more  pleasant  to  read  than)  the  old  Chronicles.  In  ^liss 
Strickland's  "  Lives  of  the  Queens  of  England  "  (Matilda 
of  Flanders),  the  same  statement  is  made,  and  no  doubt 
upon  the  same  authorities. 

More  surprised  should  I  be  (if  modern  criticism  had 
not  taught  me  in  all  matters  of  assumption  the  nil  adtnir- 
ari)  to  find  it  alleged  that  I  have  overstated  not  only  the 
learning  of  the  Norman  duke,  but  tbat  which  flourished 
in  Normandy  under  his  reign  ;  for  I  should  have  thought 
that  the  fact  of  the  learning  which  sprung  up  in  the  most 
thriving  period  of  that  principality  —  the  rapidity  of  its 
growth,  the  benefits  it  derived  from  Lanfranc,  the  encour- 
agement it  received  from  William  —  had  been  pheno- 
mena too  remarkal)le  in  the  annals  of  the  age,  and  in  the 
history  of  literature,  to  have  met  with  an  incredulit}'' 
which  the  most  moderate  amount  of  information  would 
have  sufficed  to  dispel.  Not  to  refer  such  sceptics  to 
graver  authorities,  historical  and  ecclesiastical,  in  order 
to  justify  my  representations  of  that  learning  which, 
under  "William  the  Bastard,  made  the  schools  of  Nor- 
mandy the  popular  academies  of  Europe,  a  page  or  two 
in  a  book  so  accessible  as  Villemain's  "  Tableau  de  Moyen 
Age  "  will  perhaps  suffice  to  convince  them  of  the  hastiness 
of  their  censure,  and  the  error  of  their  impressions. 

It  is  stated  in  the  "  Athenseum,"  —  and,  I  believe,  by  a 
writer  whose  authority  on  the  merits  of  opera-singers  I 
am  far  from  contesting,  but  of  whose  competence  to 
instruct  the  world  in  any  other  department  of  human 
industry  or  knowledge  I  am  less  persuaded,  —  "that  I  am 
much  mistaken  when  I  represent  not  merely  the  clergy, 
but  the  young  soldiers  and  courtiers,  of  the  reign  of  the 


XX  PREFACE. 

Confessor,  as  well  acquainted  with  the  literature  of  Greece 
and  Rome." 

The  remark,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  is  disingenuous.  I 
have  done  no  such  thing.  This  general  animadversion 
is  only  justified  by  a  reference  to  the  pedantry  of  the 
Norman,  Mallet  de  Graville,  —  and  it  is  expressly  stated 
in  the  text  that  Mallet  de  Graville  was  originally  intended 
for  the  Church,  and  that  it  was  the  peculiarity  of  his 
literary  information,  rare  in  a  soldier  (but  for  which 
his  earlier  studies  for  the  ecclesiastical  calling  readily 
account,  at  a  time  when  the  Norman  convent  of  Bee  was 
already  so  famous  for  the  erudition  of  its  teachers  and 
the  number  of  its  scholars),  that  attracted  towards  him 
the  notice  of  Lanfranc,  and  founded  his  fortunes.  Pedantry 
is  made  one  of  his  characteristics  (as  it  generally  was  the 
characteristic  of  any  man  wath  some  pretensions  to 
scholarship  in  the  earlier  ages)  ;  and  if  he  indulges  in 
a  classical  allusion,  whether  in  taunting  a  courtier  or 
conversing  with  a  "  Saxon  from  the  wealds  of  Kent,"  it 
is  no  more  out  of  keeping  with  the  pedantry  ascribed  to 
him  than  it  is  unnatural  in  Dominie  Sampson  to  rail  at 
Meg  Merrilies  in  Latin,  or  James  the  First  to  examine 
a  young  courtiei  in  the  same  unfamiliar  language.  Nor 
should  the  critic  in  question,  when  inviting  his  readers 
to  condemn  me  for  making  Mallet  de  Graville  quote 
Horace,  have  omitted  to  state  that  De  Graville  expressly 
laments  that  he  had  never  read,  nor  could  even  procure, 
a  copy  of  the  Roman  poet, —judging  only  of  the  merits 
of  Horace  by  an  extract  in  some  monkish  author,  who 
was  equally  likely  to  have  picked  up  his  quotation 
second-hand. 

So,  when  a  reference  is  made  either  by  Graville  or  by 
any  one  else  in  the  romance  to  Homeric  fables  and  per- 
sonages, a   critic    who    had   gone    tlirough    tlie    ordinary 


PREFACE.  XXI 

education  of  an  English  gentleman  would  never  thereby 
have  assumed  that  the  person  so  referring  had  read  the 
poems  of  Homer  themselves,  —  he  would  have  known 
that  Homeric  fables  or  personages,  though  not  the  Homeric 
poems,  were  made  familiar  by  quaint  travesties^  even  to 
the  most  illiterate  audience  of  the  Gothic  age.  It  was 
scarcely  more  necessary  to  know  Homer  then  than  now 
in  order  to  have  heard  of  Ulysses.  The  writer  in  the 
"  Athenaeum "  is  acquainted  with  Homeric  personages, 
but  who  on  earth  would  ever  presume  to  assert  that  he  is 
acquainted  with  Homer? 

Some  doubt  has  been  thrown  upon  my  accuracy  in 
ascribing  to  the  Anglo-Saxons  the  enjoyments  of  certain 
luxuries  (gold  and  silver  plate,  the  use  of  glass,  etc.), 
Avhich  were  extremely  rare  in  an  age  much  more  recent. 
There  is  no  ground  for  that  doubt ;  nor  is  there  a  single 
article  of  such  luxury  named  in  the  text  for  the  mention 
of  which  I  have  not  ample  authority. 

I  have  indeed  devoted  to  this  work  a  degree  of 
research  which,  if  unusual  to  romance,  I  cannot  consider 
superfluous  when  illustrating  an  age  so  remote,  and 
events  unparalleled  in  their  influence  over  the  destinies 
of  England.  Nor  am  I  without  the  hope,  that  what  the 
romance-reader  at  first  regards  as  a  defect,  he  may  ulti- 
mately acknowledge  as  a  merit, — forgiving  me  that 
strain  on  his  attention  by  which  alone  I  could  leave  dis- 
tinct in  his  memory  the  action  and  the  actors  in  that 
solemn  tragedy  which  closed  on  the  field  of  Hasting.s 
over  the  corpse  of  the  Last  Saxon   King. 

^  And  lon^  before  the  date  of  the  trave.><ty  known  to  ns,  and 
most  popular  amongst  our  medieval  ance^itors,  it  miglit  be  sliown 
that  some  rude  notion  of  Homer's  table  and  personages  had  crept 
into  the  Xorth. 


HAROLD, 

THE   LAST   OF   THE   SAXON   KINGS. 


BOOK     I. 


THE    NORMAN    VISITOR,    THE    SAXON    KING,    AND    THE    DANISH 

PROPHETESS. 


CHAPTER   I. 

Merry  was  the  month  of  May  in  the  year  of  our  Lord 
1052.  Few  were  the  boys,  and  few  the  lasses,  who  over- 
sle])t  themselves  on  tlie  first  of  that  buxom  month.  Long 
ere  the  dawn  the  crowds  had  sought  mead  and  woodland 
to  cut  poles  and  wreathe  flowers.  Many  a  mead  then 
lay  fair  and  green  beyond  the  village  of  Charing,  and 
behind  the  isle  of  Thorney  (amidst  the  brakes  and  briars 
of  which  were  then  rising  fast  and  fair  the  Hall  and 
Abbey  of  Westminster)  many  a  wood  lay  dark  in  the 
starlight,  along  the  higher  ground  that  sloped  from  the 
dank  Strand,  with  its  numerous  canals  or  dykes,  —  and 
on  either  side  of  the  great  road  into  Kent ;  flutes  and 
horns  sounded  far  and  near  through  the  green  places, 
and  laughter  and  song,  and  the  crash  of  breaking  boughs. 
As  the  dawn  came  gray  up  the  east,  arch  and  blooming 
faces  bowed    down  to  bathe  in  the    May  dew.      Patient 

VOL.  I.  —  1 


2  HAROLD. 

oxen  stood  dozing  by  the  hedgerows,  all  fragrant  with 
blossoms,  till  the  gay  spoilers  of  the  May  came  forth  from 
the  woods  with  lusty  poles,  followed  by  girls  with  laps 
full  of  flowers,  which  they  had  caught  asleep.  The  poles 
were  pranked  with  nosegays,  aud  a  chaplet  was  hung 
round  the  horns  of  every  ox.  Then  towards  daybreak 
the  processions  streamed  back  into  the  city,  through  all 
its  gates ;  boys  with  their  May-gads  (peeled  willow  wands 
twined  with  cowslips)  going  before  ;  and  clear  through  the 
lively  din  of  the  horns  and  flutes,  and  amidst  the  moving 
grove  of  branches,  choral  voices,  singing  some  early  Saxon 
stave,  precursor  of  the  later  song,  — 

"  We  have  brought  the  summer  home." 

Often  in  the  good  old  days  before  the  Monk-king 
reigned,  kings  and  ealdermen  had  thus  gone  forth  a-may- 
ing ;  but  these  merriments,  savoring  of  heathenesse,  that 
good  prince  misliked  :  nevertheless,  the  song  was  as 
blithe  and  the  boughs  were  as  green  as  if  king  and  ealder- 
man  had  walked  in  the  train. 

On  the  great  Kent  road,  the  fairest  meads  for  the  cow- 
slip and  the  greenest  woods  for  the  bough  surrounded  a 
large  building  that  once  had  belonged  to  some  voluptuous 
Koman,  now  all  defaced  and  despoiled  ;  but  the  boys  and 
lasses  shunned  those  demesnes  ;  and  even  in  their  mirth, 
as  they  passed  homeward  along  the  road,  and  saw  near 
the  ruined  walls  and  timbered  outbuildings  gray  Druid 
stones  (that  spoke  of  an  age  before  either  Saxon  or 
Roman  invader)  gleaming  through  the  dawn,  the  song 
was  hushed,  the  very  youngest  crossed  themselves;  and 
the  elder,  in  solemn  whispers,  suggested  the  precaution 
of  changing  the  song  into  a  psalm.  For  in  that  old  build- 
ing dwelt  Hilda,  of  famous  and  dark  repute,  —  Hilda, 
■who,  despite  all  law  and  canon,  was  still  believed  to  prao- 


HAROLD.  3 

tise  the  dismal  arts  of  the  Wicca  and  Morthwyrtha  (the 
witch  and  worshipper  of  the  dead).  But  once  out  of 
sight  of  those  fearful  precincts,  the  psalm  was  forgotten, 
and  again  broke,  loud,  clear,  and  silvery,  the  joyous 
chorus. 

So,  entering  London  about  sunrise,  doors  and  win- 
dows were  duly  wreathed  with  garlands  ;  and  every  vil- 
lage in  the  suburbs  had  its  May-pole,  which  stood  in 
its  place  all  the  year.  On  that  happy  day  labor  rested  ; 
ceorl  and  theowe  had  alike  a  holiday  to  dance  and  tumble 
round  the  May-pole;  and  thus,  on  the  1st  of  May,  Youth 
and  Mirth  and  Music  "  brought  the  summer  home." 

The  next  day  you  might  still  see  where  the  buxom 
bands  had  been ;  you  might  track  their  way  by  fallen 
flowers,  and  green  leaves,  and  the  deep  ruts  made  by 
oxen  (yoked  often  in  teams  from  twenty  to  forty,  in  the 
wains  that  carried  home  the  poles)  ;  and  fair  and  frequent 
throughout  the  land,  from  any  eminence,  you  might  behold 
the  hamlet  swards  still  crowned  with  the  May  trees,  and 
the  air  still  seemed  fragrant  with  their  garlands. 

It  is  on  that  second  day  of  May,  1052,  that  my  story 
opens,  at  the  House  of  Hilda,  the  reputed  Morthwyrtha. 
It  stood  upon  a  gentle  and  verdant  height ;  and,  even 
through  all  the  barbarous  mutilation  it  had  undergone 
from  barbarian  hands,  enough  was  left  strikingly  to 
contrast  the  ordinary  abodes  of  the  Saxon. 

The  remains  of  Roman  art  were  indeed  still  numer- 
ous throughout  England,  but  it  happened  rarely  that 
the  ^axon  had  chosen  his  home  amidst  the  villas  of 
those  noble  and  primal  conquerors.  Our  first  forefathers 
were  more  inclined  to  destroy  than  to  adapt 

By  what  chance  this  building  became  an  exception  to 
the  ordinary  rule  it  is  now  impossible  to  conjecture,  but 
from  a  very  remote  period  it  had  sheltered  successive 
races  of  Teuton  lords. 


4  HAKOLD. 

The  changes  wrought  in  the  edifice  were  mournful  and 
grotesque.  What  was  now  the  hall  had  evidently  been 
the  atrium;  tlie  round  shield,  with  its  pointed  boss,  the 
spear,  sword,  and  small  curved  sa?x  of  the  early  Teuton, 
were  suspended  from  the  columns  on  wliich  once  had 
been  wreathed  the  flowers ;  in  the  centre  of  the  floor, 
where  fragments  of  the  old  mosaic  still  glistened  from 
the  hard-pressed  paving  of  clay  and  lime,  what  now  was 
the  fireplace  had  been  the  impluvium,  and  the  smoke 
went  sullenly  tiirough  the  aperture  in  the  roof,  made  of 
old  to  receive  the  rains  of  heaven.  Around  the  hall  were 
still  left  the  old  cubicula  or  dormitories  (small,  high,  and 
ligiited  but  from  the  doors),  which  now  served  for  the 
sleeping-rooms  of  the  humbler  guest  or  the  household 
servant ;  while  at  the  farther  end  of  the  hall,  the  wide 
space  between  the  columns,  which  had  once  given  ample 
vista  from  graceful  awnings  into  tabliuum  and  viridarium, 
was  filled  up  with  rude  rubble  and  Roman  bricks,  leav- 
ing but  a  low,  round,  arched  door  that  still  led  into  the 
tablinum.  But  that  tabliuum,  formerly  the  gayest  state- 
room of  the  Roman  lord,  was  now  tilled  with  various 
lumber,  piles  of  fagots,  and  farming  uteusils.  On  cither 
side  of  this  desecrated  apartment,  stretched,  to  the  right, 
the  old  lararium,  stripped  of  its  ancient  images  of  ances- 
tor and  god  ;  to  the  left,  what  had  been  the  gynoecium 
(women's  apartment). 

One  side  of  the  ancient  peristyle,  which  was  of  vast 
extent,  was  now  converted  into  stabling,  sties  for  swine, 
and  stalls  for  oxen.  On  the  other  side  was  constru.Hed  a 
Christian  chapel,  made  of  rough  oak  planks,  fastened  by 
plates  at  the  top,  and  with  a  roof  of  thatched  reeds.  The 
columns  and  wall  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  peristyle 
were  a  mass  of  ruins,  through  the  gigantic  rents  of  which 
loomed  a  grassy  liillock,  its  sides  partially  covered  with 


HAKOLD.  5 

clumps  of  furze.  On  this  hillock  were  the  mutilated 
remains  of  an  ancient  Druidical  croramel,  in  the  centre  of 
which  (near  a  funeral  mound,  or  barrow,  with  the  bantas- 
tean,  or  gravestone,  of  some  early  Saxon  chief  at  one  end) 
had  been  sacrilegiously  placed  an  altar  to  Thor,  as  was 
apparent  both  from  the  shape,  from  a  rude,  half-obliterated, 
sculptured  relief  of  the  god,  with  his  lifted  hammer,  and 
a  few  Runic  letters.  Amidst  the  temple  of  the  Briton 
the  Saxon  had  reared  the  shrine  of  his  triumphant  war- 
god. 

Now  still,  amidst  the  ruins  of  that  extreme  side  of  the 
peristyle  which  opened  to  this  hillock,  were  left,  first,  an 
ancient  Roman  fountain,  that  now  served  to  water  the 
swine,  and  next,  a  small  sacellum,  or  fane  to  Bacchus  (as 
relief  and  frieze,  yet  spared,  betokened),  Thus  the  eye, 
at  one  survey,  beheld  the  shrines  of  four  creeds :  the 
Druid,  mystical  and  symbolical ;  the  Roman,  sensual  but 
humane;  the  Teutonic,  ruthless  and  destroying;  and, 
latest  risen  and  surviving  all,  though  as  yet  with  but  little 
of  its  gentler  influence  over  the  deeds  of  men,  the  edifice 
of  the  Faith  of  Peace. 

Across  the  peristyle,  theowes  and  swineherds  passed  to 
and  fro:  in  the  atrium,  men  of  a  higher  class,  half  armed, 
were,  some  drinking,  some  at  dice,  some  playing  with 
huge  hounds,  or  caressing  the  hawks  that  stood  grave 
and  solemn  on  their  perches. 

The  lararium  was  deserted ;  the  gynoecium  was  still,  as 
in  the  Roman  time,  the  favored  apartment  of  the  female 
portion  of  the  household,  and  indeed  bore  the  same 
name,^  —  and  with  the  group  there  assembled  we  have 
now  to  da 

The  appliances  of  the  chamber  showed  the  rank  and 

'  "  The  apartment  in  which  the  Anglo-Saxon  women  lived  was 
called  Gyueciura."  —  Tosbruoke,  vol.  ii.  p,  570. 


6  HAROLD. 

wealth  of  the  owner.  At  that  period  the  domestic  luxury 
of  the  rich  was  infinitely  greater  than  has  been  generally 
supposed.  The  industry  of  the  women  decorated  wall 
and  furniture  with  needlework  and  hangings ;  and  as  a 
thegn  forfeited  his  rank  if  he  lost  his  lands,  so  the  higher 
orders  of  an  aristocracy  rather  of  wealth  than  birth,  had 
usually  a  certain  portion  of  superfluous  riches,  which 
served  to  flow  towards  the  bazaars  of  the  East  and  the 
nearer  markets  of  Flanders  and  Saracenic  Spain. 

In  this  room  the  walls  were  draped  with  silken  hang- 
ings richly  embroidered.  The  single  window  was  glazed 
with  a  dull,  gray  glass.-^  On  a  beaufet  were  ranged  horns 
tipped  with  silver,  and  a  few  vessels  of  pure  gold.  A 
small,  circular  table  in  the  centre  was  supported  by  sym- 
bolical monsters  quaintly  carved.  At  one  side  of  the 
wall,  on  a  long  settle,  some  half-a-dozen  handmaids  were 
employed  in  spinning  ;  remote  from  them,  and  near  the 
window,  sat  a  woman  advanced  in  years,  and  of  a  mien 
and  aspect  singularly  majestic.  Upon  a  small  tripod 
before  her  was  a  Runic  manuscript,  and  an  inkstand  of 
elegant  form,  with  a  silver  grapliium,  or  pen.  At  her 
feet  reclined  a  girl  somewhat  about  the  age  of  sixteen, 
her  long,  fair  hair  parted  across  her  forehead,  and  falling 
far  down  her  shoulders.  Her  dress  was  a  linen  under- 
tunic,  with  long  sleeves,  rising  high  to  the  throat,  and, 
without  one   of  the   modern   artificial    restraints   of    the 

1  Glass,  introduced  about  tlie  time  of  Bede.  was  more  common 
then  in  the  iiouses  of  the  wealthy,  whether  for  vessels  or  windows, 
than  in  the  nuudi  later  age  of  the  gorgeous  Plantagenets.  Alfred, 
in  one  of  his  poems,  introduces  jrlass  as  a  familiar  illustration:  — 

So  oft  Llie  mild  sea 
WiUi  south  wind 
As  «niy  ul.'iss  clear 
Becoiues  grimly  troubled. 

Sharon  Turnhr. 


HAROLD.  7 

shape,  the  simple  belt  sufficed  to  show  the  slender  pro- 
portions and  delicate  outline  of  the  wearer.  The  color  of 
the  dress  was  of  the  purest  white,  but  its  hems,  or  bor- 
ders, were  richly  embroidered.  This  girl's  beauty  was 
something  marvellous  In  a  land  proverbial  for  fair 
women,  it  had  already  obtained  her  tlie  name  of  "  the 
fair."  In  that  beauty  were  blended,  not  as  yet  without  a 
struggle  for  mastery,  the  two  expressions  seldom  united 
in  one  countenance,  —  the  soft  and  the  noble  ;  indeed,  in 
the  whole  aspect  there  was  the  evidence  of  some  internal 
struggle  ;  the  intelligence  was  not  yet  com])lete  ;  the  soul 
and  heart  were  not  yet  united  :  and  Edith,  the  Christian 
maid,  dwelt  in  the  home  of  Hilda,  the  heathen  prophetess. 
The  girl's  blue  eyes,  rendered  dark  by  the  shade  of  their 
long  lashes,  were  fixed  intently  upon  the  stern  and 
troubled  countenance  which  was  bent  upon  her  own,  but 
bent  with  tliat  abstract  gaze  which  shows  that  the  soul  is 
tiljsent  from  the  sight.  So  sat  Hilda,  and  so  reclined  her 
grandcliild  Pldith. 

"  Grandam,"  said  the  girl  in  a  low  voice  and  after 
a  long  pause  ;  and  the  sound  of  her  voice  so  startled 
the  handmaids,  that  every  si)indle  stopped  for  a  moment 
and  then  plied  with  renewed  activity,  — -"grandam, 
what  troubles  you  :  are  you  not  thinking  of  the  great 
Earl  and  his  fair  sons,  now  outlawed  far  over  the  wide 
seas  ? " 

As  the  girl  spoke,  Hilda  started  slightly,  like  one 
awakened  from  a  dream  ;  and  when  Edith  had  concluded 
her  question,  she  rose  slowly  to  the  height  of  a  statue, 
unbowed  by  her  years,  and  far  towering  above  even  the 
ordinary  standard  of  men  ;  and,  turning  from  the  child, 
her  eye  fell  upon  the  row  of  silent  maids,  each  at  her 
rapid,  noiseless,  stealthy  work.  "  Ho  !  "  said  she,  her 
cold  and  haughty  eye  gleaming  as  she  spoke,  —  "  yester 


8  HAROLD. 

day  tliey  brought  home  the  summer  ;  to-day  ye  aid  to 
bring  home  the  winter.  Weave  well,  —  heed  well  warf 
and  woof;  Skulda^  is  amongst  ye,  and  her  pale  hngers 
guide  the  web  !  " 

The  maidens  lifted  not  their  eyes,  though  in  every 
cheek  the  color  paled  at  the  words  of  the  mistress.  The 
spindles  revolved,  the  tliread  shot,  and  again  there  was 
silence  more  freezing  than  before, 

"  Askest  thou,"  said  Hilda  at  length,  passing  to  tlie 
child,  as  if  the  question  so  long  addressed  to  her  ear  had 
only  just  reached  her  mind,  — "askest  thou  if  I  thought 
of  the  Earl  and  his  fair  sons  1  —  yea,  1  heard  the  smith 
welding  arms  on  the  anvil,  and  the  hammer  of  the  shii)- 
wright  shaping  strong  ribs  for  the  horses  of  the  sea.  Ere 
the  reaper  has  bound  his  sheaves.  Earl  Godwin  will  scare 
the  Normans  in  the  halls  of  the  JNIduk-king  as  the  hawk 
scares  the  brood  in  the  dovecot.  Weave  well,  heed  well 
warf  and  woof,  nimble  maidens,  —  strong  be  the  texture, 
for  biting  is  the  worm." 

"AV hat  weave  they,  then,  good  grandmother?"  asked 
the  girl,  with  wonder  and  awe  in  lier  soft,  mild  eyes. 

"  Tlie  winding-sheet  of  the  great !  " 

Hilda's  lips  closed,  but  her  eyes,  yet  brighter  than 
before,  gazed  upon  space,  and  her  pale  hand  seemed  trac- 
ing letters,  like  runes,  in  the  air. 

Then  slowly  she  turned,  ami  looked  forth  through  the 
dull  window.  "Give  me  my  coverchief  and  my  stall'" 
said  she,  quickly. 

Every  one  of  the  handmaids,  Ijlithe  for  excuse  to  quit 
a  task  which  seemed  recently  commenced,  and  was 
certainly  not  endeared  to  them  by  the  knowledge  of 
its  purpose  communicated  to  them  by  the  lady,  rose  to 
obey. 

^  SkulJa,  the  Xoriia,  or  P'ate,  tliat  presided  over  the  future. 


HAROLD.  9 

Unheeding  the  hands  that  vied  with  each  other,  Hilda 
took  the  hood,  and  drew  it  partially  over  her  brow.  Lean- 
ing lightly  on  a  long  staff,  the  head  of  which  formed  a 
raven,  carved  from  some  wood  stained  black,  she  passed 
into  the  hall,  and  thence,  through  the  desecrated  tablinum, 
into  the  mighty  court  formed  by  the  shattered  peristyle  ; 
there  she  stopped,  mused  a  moment,  and  called  on  Edith. 
The  girl  was  soon  by  her  side. 

"  Conio  vvith  me.  There  is  a  face  you  shall  see  but 
twice  in  life,  —  this  day  ; "  and  Hilda  paused,  and  the 
rigid  and  almobt  colossal  beauty  of  her  countenance 
softened. 

"And  when  again,  ray  grand  motlier  ?" 

"  Child,  put  thy  warm  hand  in  mine.  So  !  the  vision 
darkens  from  me.  When  again,  suidst  thou,  Edith  '?  — 
alas,  I  know  not." 

^Vhile  thus  speaking,  Hilda  passed  slowly  by  the 
Roman  fountain  and  the  heathen  fane,  and  ascended 
the  little  hillock.  There,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
sunnnit,  backed  by  the  Druid  crommel  and  the  Teuton 
altar,  she  seated  herself  deliberately  on  the  sward. 

A  few  daisies,  primroses,  and  cowslips  grew  around  : 
these  Edith  began  to  pluck.  Singing,  as  she  wove,  a 
simple  song,  that,  not  more  by  the  dialect  than  the  senti- 
ment, betrayed  its  origin  in  the  ballad  of  the  Norse,^ 
which   had,  in  its  more  careless  composition,  a  character 

^  Tlie  historians  of  our  literature  have  not  done  justice  to  the 
great  influence  which  the  poetrv  of  the  Danes  has  had  upon  our 
early  national  muse.  I  have  little  douVit  but  that  to  that  source 
may  be  traced  the  minstrelsy  of  our  borders,  and  the  Scottish  Low- 
lands ;  while,  even  in  the  central  counties,  the  example  and  exer- 
tions of  Canute  must  have  liad  considerable  effect  on  the  taste  and 
spirit  of  our  Scops  That  great  prince  afforded  the  amplest 
encouragement  to  Scandinavian  poetry,  and  Glaus  names  eight 
Danish  poets  who  fiourislied  at  his  court. 


10  HAROLD. 

quite  distinct  from  the  artificial  poetry  of  the  Saxons.     The 
song  may  be  thus  imperfectly  rendered  :  — 

Merrily  the  throstle  sings 

Amid  the  merry  May ; 
The  throstle  sings  but  to  my  ear,  — 

My  heart  is  far  awa}^ ! 

Blithely  bloometh  mead  and  bank, 

And  blithely  buds  the  tree ; 
And  hark  !  —  they  bring  the  Summer  home.' 

It  has  no  home  with  me  I 

They  have  outlawed  him,  —  my  Summer  1 

An  outlaw  far  away  !  — 
The  birds  may  sing,  the  flowers  may  bloom,-— 

Oh,  give  me  back  my  May  ! 

As  she  came  to  the  last  line,  her  soft  low  voice  seemed 
to  awaken  a  chorus  of  sprightly  horns  and  trumpets,  and 
certain  other  wind-instruments  peculiar  to  the  music  of 
that  day.  The  hillock  bordered  the  high-road  to  London, 
which  then  wound  through  wastes  of  forest  land ; 
and  now  emerging  from  the  trees  to  the  left  appeared  a 
goodly  company.  First  came  two  riders  abreast,  each 
holding  a  banner.  On  the  one  was  depicted  the  cross 
and  five  martlets,  the  device  of  Edward,  afterwards  sur- 
named  the  Confessor ;  on  the  other,  a  plain,  broad  cross, 
with  a  deep  border  round  it,  and  the  streamer  shaped 
into  sharp  points. 

The  first  was  familiar  to  Edith,  who  dropped  her  gar- 
land to  gaze  on  the  approaching  pageant ;  the  last  was 
strange  to  her.  She  had  been  accustomed  to  see  the 
banner  of  the  great  Earl  Godwin  by  the  side  of  the 
Saxon  king  ;  and  she  said,  almost  indignantly,  — 

"  Who  dares,  sweet  grandam,  to  place  banner  or  pennon 
where  Earl  Godwin's  ought  to  float]" 

•'Peace,"  said  Hilda,  —  "peace,  and  look." 


HAROLD.  11 

Immediately  behind  the  standard-bearers  came  two 
figures,  —  strangely  dissimilar  indeed  in  mien,  in  years, 
in  bearing  :  each  bore  on  his  left  wrist  a  hawk.  The  one 
Avas  mounted  on  a  milk-white  palfrey,  with  housings  inlaid 
with  gold  and  uncut  jewels.  Though  nut  really  old,  — 
for  he  was  much  on  this  side  of  sixty,  —  both  his  counte- 
nance and  carriage  evinced  age.  His  complexion,  indeed, 
was  extremely  fair,  and  his  cheeks  ruddy  ;  but  the  visage 
was  long  and  deeply  furrowed,  and  from  beneath  a  bon- 
net not  dissimilar  to  those  in  use  among  the  Scotch 
streamed  hair  long  and  white  as  snow,  mingling  with  a 
large  and  forked  beard.  AVhite  seemed  liis  chosen  color. 
White  was  the  upper  tunic,  clasped  on  his  shoulder  with 
a  broad  ouche,  or  brooch  ;  white  the  woollen  leggings 
fitted  to  somewhat  emaciated  limbs  ;  and  white  the  man- 
tle, though  broidered  with  a  broad  hem  of  gold  and  pur- 
ple. The  fashion  of  his  dress  was  that  which  well 
became  a  noble  person,  but  it  suited  ill  the  somewhat 
frail  and  graceless  figure  of  the  rider.  Nevertheless,  as 
Edith  saw  him,  she  rose,  with  an  expressicni  of  deep 
reverence  on  her  countenance,  and  saying,  "  It  is  our  lord 
the  king,"  advanced  some  steps  down  the  hillock,  and 
there  stood,  her  arms  folded  on  her  breast,  and  quite  for- 
getful, in  her  innocence  and  youth,  that  she  had  left  the 
house  without  the  cloak  and  coverchief  which  were 
deemed  indispensable  to  the  fitting  appearance  of  maid 
and  matron  when  they  were  seen  abroad. 

"  Fair  sir,  and  brother  mine,"  said  the  deep  voice  of 
the  younger  rider,  in  the  Komance  or  Norman  tongue, 
"  I  have  heard  that  the  small  people  of  whom  my  neigh- 
bors, the  Bretons,  tell  us  much,  abound  greatly  in  this 
fair  land  of  yours ;  and  if  I  were  not  by  the  side  of  one 
whom  no  creature  unassoilzied  and  unbaptized  dare 
approach,  by  sweet  St.  Yalery  I  should  say, — yonder 
stands  one  of  those  same  gentille  fees !  " 


12  HAROLD. 

King  Edward's  eye  followed  the  direction  of  bis  com- 
panion's outstretched  hand,  and  his  quiet  brow  slightly 
contracted  as  he  beheld  the  young  form  of  Juiith  standing 
motionless  a  few  yards  before  him,  with  the  warm  May 
wind  lifting  and  playing  with  her  long,  goLlen  locks. 
He  checked  his  palfrey,  and  murmured  some  Latin  words, 
wdiich  the  knight  beside  him  recognized  as  a  prayer,  and 
to  which,  doffing  his  cap,  he  added  an  Amen,  in  a  tone  of 
such  unctuous  gravity  that  the  royal  saint  rewarded  him 
"with  a  faint  approving  smile,  and  an  aifectionate  "  Bene, 
betie,   Ptosissime." 

Then,  inclining  his  palfrey's  head  towards  the  knoll,  he 
motioned  to  the  girl  to  approach  him.  Edith,  with  a  height- 
ened color,  obeyed,  and  came  to  the  roadside.  The  stan- 
dard-bearers halted,  as  did  the  king  and  his  comrade. 
The  procession  behind  halted :  thirty  knights,  two 
bishops,  eight  abbots,  all  on  fiery  steeds  and  in  Norman 
garb  ;  squires  and  attendants  on  foot,  a  long  and  pompous 
retinue,  —  they  halted  all.  Only  a  stray  hound  or  two 
broke  from  the  rest,  and  wandered  into  the  forest  land 
■with  heads  trailing. 

"  Edith,  my  child,"  said  Edward,  .still  in  Norman- 
French,  for  he  spoke  his  own  language  with  hesitation, 
and  the  Romance  tongue,  which  had  long  been  familiar 
to  the  higher  classes  in  England,  had,  since  his  accession, 
become  the  only  language  in  use  at  court,  and  as  such 
every  one  of  "  Eorl-kind  "  was  supposed  to  speak  it,  — 
"  Edith,  my  child,  thou  hast  not  forgotten  my  lessons,  I 
trow  ;  thou  singest  the  hymns  1  gave  thee,  and  neglect- 
est  not  to  wear  the  relic  round  thy  neck." 

The  girl  hung  her  head,  and  spoke  not. 

"  How  comes  it,  then,"  continued  the  king,  with  a 
voice  to  wdiich  he  in  vain  endeavored  to  impart  an  accent 
of   severity,  —  "  how  comes  it,  0  little  one,  that  thou, 


HAROLD.  13 

whose  thoughts  should  be  lifted  already  above  this  carnal 
world,  and  eager  for  the  service  of  Mary  the  chaste  and 
blessed,  standest  thus  hoodless  and  alone  on  the  waysides, 
a  mark  for  the  eyes  of  men  ?  go  to,  it  is  naught." 

Thus  reproved,  and  in  presence  of  so  large  and  bril- 
liant a  company,  the  girl's  color  went  and  came,  her 
breast  heaved  high,  but  with  an  effort  beyond  her  age 
she  checked  her  tears,  and  said  meekly,  "  My  grand- 
mother,  Hilda,   bade  me  come  with  her,  and  I  came." 

"  Hilda !  "  said  the  king,  backing  his  palfrey  with  ap- 
parent perturbation  ;  "  but  Hilda  is  not  with  thee,  —  I 
see  her  not." 

As  he  spoke,  Hilda  rose,  and  so  suddenly  did  her  tall 
form  appear  on  the  brow  of  the  hill,  that  it  seemed  as 
if  she  had  emerged  from  the  earth.  With  a  light  and 
rapid  stride  she  gained  the  side  of  her  grandchild  ;  and 
after  a  slight  and  haughty  reverence,  said,  "  Hilda  is 
here ;  what  wants  Edward  the  king  with  his  servant 
Hilda  ? " 

"Nought,  nought,"  said  the  king,  hastily,  and  some- 
thing like  fear  passed  over  his  placid  countenance ; 
"save,  indeed,"  he  added,  with  a  reluctant  tone,  as  of 
that  of  a  man  who  obeys  his  conscience  against  his 
inclination,  "  that  I  would  pray  thee  to  keep  this  child 
pure  to  threshold  and  altar,  as  is  meet  for  one  whom 
our  Lady  the  A^irgin,  in  due  time,  will  elect  to  her 
service." 

"  A^ot  so,  son  of  Etheldred,  son  of  Woden,  the  last 
descendant  of  Penda  should  live,  not  to  glide  a  ghost 
amidst  cloisters,  but  to  rock  children  for  war  in  their 
father's  shield.  Few  men  are  there  yet  like  the  men 
of  old  ;  and  while  the  foot  of  the  foreigner  is  on  the 
Saxon  soil,  no  branch  of  the  stem  of  Woden  should  be 
nipped  in  the  leaf." 


14  HAKOLD. 

*'  Per  la  resplendar  I)e^  bold  dame,"  cried  the  knight 
by  the  side  of  Edward,  while  a  lurid  flush  passed  over  his 
cheek  of  bronze  ;  "but  thou  art  too  glib  of  tongue  for  a 
subject,  and  pratest  overmuch  of  Woden,  the  Paynim, 
for  the  lips  of  a  Christian  matron." 

Hilda  met  the  flashing  eye  of  the  knight  with  a  brow 
of  lofty  scorn,  on  Avhich  still  a  certain  terror  was  visible. 

"  Child,"  she  said,  putting  her  hand  upon  Edith's  fair 
locks  ;  "  this  is  the  man  thou  shalt  see  but  twice  in  thy 
life,  —  look  up,  and  mark  well !  " 

Edith  instinctively  raised  her  eyes,  and,  once  fixed 
upon  the  knight,  they  seemed  chained  as  by  a  spell. 
His  vest,  of  a  cramoisay  so  dark  that  it  seemed  black 
beside  the  snowy  garb  of  the  Confessor,  was  edged  by  a 
deep  band  of  embroidered  gold,  leaving  perfectly  bare  his 
firm,  full  throat,  —  firm  and  full  as  a  column  of  granite  ; 
a  short  jacket  or  manteline  of  fur,  pendent  from  the 
shoulders,  left  developed  in  all  its  breadth  a  breast  that 
seemed  meet  to  stay  the  march  of  an  army  ;  and  on  the 
left  arm,  curved  to  support  the  falcon,  the  vast  muscles 
rose,  round  and  gnarled,   through  the  close  sleeve. 

In  height,  he  was  really  but  little  above  the  stature  of 
many  of  those  present  ;  nevertheless,  so  did  his  port,  his 
air,  the  nobility  of  his  large  proportions,  till  the  eye,  that 
he  seemed  to  tower  immeasurably  above  the  rest. 

His  countenance  was  yet  more  remarkable  than  his 
form  :  still  in  the  prime  of  youth,  he  seemed  at  the 
first  glance  younger,  at  the  second  older,  than  he  was. 
At  the  first  glance  younger  ;  for  his  face  was  perfectly 
shaven,  without  even  the  mustache  which  the  Saxon 
courtier,  in  imitating  the  Worman,  still  declined  to  sur- 
render ;  and  the  smooth  visage  and  bare  throat  sufficed 
in  themselves  to  give  the  air  of  youth  to  that  doiuinant 

1  '-By  the  .picador  of  God." 


HAROLD.  15 

and  imperious  presence.  His  small  skull-cap  left  uncon- 
cealed his  forehead,  shaded  with  short,  thick  hair, 
uncurled,  but  black  and  glossy  as  the  wings  of  a  raven. 
It  was  on  that  forehead  that  time  had  set  its  trace  ;  it 
was  knit  into  a  frown  over  the  eyebrows ;  lines  deep  as 
furrows  crossed  its  broad  but  not  elevated  expanse.  That 
frown  spoke  of  hasty  ire  and  the  habit  of  stern  command  •, 
those  furrows  spoke  of  deep  thought  and  plotting  scheme  : 
the  one  betrayed  but  temper  and  circumstance  ;  the  other, 
more  noble,  spoke  of  the  character  and  the  intellect. 
The  face  was  square,  and  the  regard  lion-like ;  the  mouth 
—  small,  and  even  beautiful  in  outline  —  had  a  sinister 
expression  in  its  exceeding  firmness  ;  and  the  jaw,  vast, 
solid,  as  if  bound  in  iron,  showed  obstinate,  ruthless, 
determined  will  :  such  a  jaw  as  belongs  to  the  tiger 
amongst  beasts,  and  the  conqueror  amongst  men  ;  such  as 
it  is  seen  in  the  effigies  of  Caesar,  of  Cortes,  of  Napoleon. 

That  presence  was  well  calculated  to  command  the 
admiration  of  women  not  less  than  the  awe  of  men. 
Eut  no  admiration  mingled  with  the  terror  that  seized 
the  girl  as  she  gazed  long  and  wistful  upon  the  knight. 
The  fascination  of  the  serpent  on  the  bird  held  her  mute 
and  frozen.  Xever  was  that  face  forgotten  :  often  in 
afterdife  it  haunted  her  in  the  noonday,  it  frowned  upon 
her  dreams. 

"  Fair  child,"  said  the  knight,  fatigued  at  length  by 
the  obstinacy  of  the  gaze,  while  that  snale  peculiar  to 
those  who  have  commanded  men  relaxed  his  brow,  and 
restored  the  native  beauty  to  his  lip,  —  "  fair  child,  learn 
not  from  thy  peevish  grandam  so  uncourteous  a  lesson  as 
hate  of  the  foreigner.  As  thou  growest  into  womanhood, 
know  that  Norman  knight  is  sworn  slave  to  lady  fair  ; " 
and,  doffing  his  cap,  he  took  from  it  an  uncut  jewel,  set 
in   Byzantine    filigree   work.      "  Hold    out    thy    lap,   my 


16  HAROLD. 

child  ;  and  when  thou  hearest  the  foreigner  scoffed,  set 
this  bauble  in  thy  locks,  and  think  kindly  of  William, 
Count  of  the  Normans."  -^ 

He  dropped  the  jewel  on  the  ground  as  he  spoke,  for 
Edith,  shrinking  and  unsoftened  towards  him,  held  no 
lap  to  receive  it ;  and  Hilda,  to  whom  Edward  had  been 
speaking  in  a  low  voice,  advanced  to  the  spot  and  struck 
the  jewel  with  her  staff  under  the  hoofs  of  the  king's 
palfrey. 

"  Son  of  Emma,  the  Norman  woman,  who  sent  thy 
youth  into  exile,  trample  on  the  gifts  of  thy  Norman 
kinsman.  And  if,  as  men  say,  thou  art  of  such  gifted 
holiness  that  Heaven  grants  thy  hand  the  power  to  heal 
and  thy  voice  the  power  to  curse,  heal  thy  country  and 
curse  the  stranger  !  " 

She  extended  her  right  arm  to  William  as  she  spoke, 
and  such  was  the  dignity  of  her  passion,  and  such  its 
force,  that  an  awe  fell  upon  all.  Then,  dropping  her 
hood  over  her  face,  she  slowly  turned  away,  regained  the 
summit  of  the  knoll,  and  stood  erect  beside  the  altar  of 
the  Northern  god,  her  face  invisible  through  the  hood 
drawn  completely  over  it,  and  her  form  motionless  as  a 
statue. 

"  Ride  on,"  said  Edward,  crossing  himself. 

"  Now,  by  the  bones  of  St.  Valery,"  said  William, 
after  a  pause,  in  which  his  dark  keen  eye  noted  tlie 
gloom  upon  the  king's  gentle  face,  "  it  moves  much  my 
simple  wonder  how  even  presence  so  saintly  can  hear 
"without  wrath  words  so  unleal  and  foul.     Gramercy,  an 

1  It  is  noticeable  that  the  Norman  dukes  did  not  call  themselves 
Counts  or  Dukes  of  Noriuaiidy,  but  of  tlie  Normans  ;  and  the  first 
Anglo-Norman  kings,  till  Richard  I.,  styled  tliemselves  Kings  of 
the  Eiiglisli,  not  of  England.  In  both  Saxon  and  Norman  chroni- 
cles, William  usually  bears  the  title  of  Count  (Comes),  but  in  tliis 
tale  he  will  be  generally  called  "  Uuke,"  as  a  title  more  familiar 
to  us. 


HAROLD.  17 

tlie  proudest  dame  in  !N"ormandy  (and  I  take  her  to  be 
wife  to  my  stoutest  baron,  WilHam  Fitzosborne)  Lad 
spoken  thus  to  me  —  " 

"  Thou  wouldst  have  done  as  I,  my  brother,"  inter- 
rupted Edward,  —  "  prayed  to  our  Lord  to  pardon  her, 
and  rode  on  pitying." 

William's  lip  quivered  with  ire,  yet  he  curbed  tlie 
reply  that  sprang  to  it,  and  he  looked  with  affection 
genuinely  more  akin  to  admiration  than  scorn  upon  his 
fellow  prince.  For,  fierce  and  relentless  as  the  duke's 
deeds  were,  his  faith  was  notably  sincere ;  and  while  this 
made,  indeed,  the  prince's  chief  attraction  to  the  pious 
Edward,  so,  on  the  other  hand,  this  bowed  the  duke  in 
a  kind  of  involuntary  and  superstitious  homage  to  the 
man  who  sought  to  square  deeds  to  faith.  It  is  ever  the 
case  with  stern  and  stormy  spirits,  that  the  meek  ones 
which  contrast  them  steal  strangely  into  their  affections. 
This  principle  of  human  nature  can  alone  account  for  the 
enthusiastic  devotion  which  the  mild  sufferings  of  the 
Saviour  awoke  in  the  fiercest  exterminators  of  the  North. 
In  proportion,  often,  to  the  warrior's  ferocity,  was  his 
love  to  that  divine  Model,  at  whose  sufferings  he  wept,  to 
whose  tomb  he  wandered  barefoot,  and  whose  example  of 
compassionate  forgiveness  he  would  have  thought  himself 
tlie  basest  of  men  to  follow  ! 

"  Now,  by  my  halidame !  I  honor  and  love  thee, 
Edward,"  cried  the  duke,  with  a  heartiness  more  frank 
than  was  usual  to  him;  "and  were  I  thy  subject,  woe  to 
man  or  woman  that  wagged  tongue  to  wound  thee  by  a 
breath.  But  who  and  what  is  this  same  Hilda  1  one  of 
thy  kith  and  kinl  —  surely  not  less  than  kingly  blood 
runs  so  bold  ?" 

"William,  hien  aime,"  ^  said  the  king,  "it  is  true  that 

^  The  few  expressions  borrowed  occasionally  from  the  Romance 
tongue,  to  give  individuality  to  the  speaker,  will  generally  be  trana- 

VOL.  I.  —  2 


18  HAROLD. 

Hilda,  whom  the  saints  assoil,  is  of  kingly  blood,  though 
not  of  our  kingly  line.  It  is  feared,"  added  Edward,  in 
a  timid  whisper,  as  he  cast  a  hurried  glance  around  him, 
"  that  this  unhappy  woman  has  ever  been  more  addicted 
to  the  rites  of  her  pagan  ancestors  than  to  those  of  Hol}^ 
Church ;  and  men  do  say  that  she  hath  thus  acquired 
from  fiend  or  charm  secrets  devoutly  to  be  eschewed  by 
the  righteous.  Nathless,  let  us  rather  hope  that  her  mind 
is  somewhat  distraught  with  her  misfortunes." 

The  king  sighed,  and  the  duke  sighed  too,  but  the 
duke's  sigh  spoke  impatience.  He  swept  behind  him  a 
stern  and  withering  look  towards  the  proud  figure  of 
Hilda,  still  seen  through  the  glades,  and  said,  in  a  sinister 
voice  :  "  Of  kingly  blood ;  but  this  witch  of  Woden  hath 
no  sons  or  kinsmen,  I  trust,  to  pretend  to  the  throne  of 
the  Saxon  1 " 

"  She  is  sibbe  to  Githa,  wife  of  Godwin,"  answered 
the  king  ;  "  and  that  is  her  most  perilous  connection ; 
for  the  banished  earl,  as  thou  knowest,  did  not  pretend 
to  fill  the  throne,  but  he  was  content  with  nought  less 
than  governing  our  people." 

The  king  then  proceeded  to  sketch  an  outline  of  the 
history  of  Hilda ;  but  his  narrative  was  so  deformed  both 
by  his  superstitions  and  prejudices,  and  his  imperfect 
information  in  all  the  leading  events  and  characters  in 
his  own  kingdom,  that  we  will  venture  to  take  upon 
ourselves  his  task ;  and  while  the  train  ride  on  through 
glade  and  mead,  we  will  briefly  narrate,  from  our  own 
special  sources  of  knowledge,  the  chronicle  of  Hilda,  the 
Scandinavian  Vala. 

lated  into  modern  French,  for  tlie  same  reason  as  Saxon  is  ren- 
dered into  modern  English,  —  namely,  that  the  words  may  b« 
Intelligible  to  the  reader. 


HAROLD,  19 


CHAPTER  IL 

A  MAGNIFICENT  race  of  men  were  those  war  sons  of  the 
old  North,  whom  our  popular  histories,  so  superficial  in 
their  accounts  of  this  age,  include  in  the  common  name  of 
the  "  Danes."  They  replunged  into  barharism  the  nations 
over  which  they  swept ;  but  from  that  barbarism  they 
reproduced  the  noblest  elements  of  civilization.  Swede, 
Norwegian,  and  Dane,  differing  in  some  minor  points, 
when  closely  examined,  had  yet  one  common  character 
viewed  at  a  distance.  They  had  the  same  prodigious 
energy,  the  same  passion  for  freedom,  individual  and 
civil ;  the  same  splendid  errors  in  the  thirst  for  fame 
and  the  "  point  of  honor ; "  and  above  all,  as  a  main 
cause  of  civilization,  they  were  wonderfully  pliant  and 
malleable  in  their  admixtures  with  the  peoples  they 
overran.  This  is  their  true  distinction  from  the  stub- 
"born  Celt,  who  refuses  to  mingle  and  disdains  to  improve. 
Frankes,  the  archbishop,  baptized  Rolf-ganger;^  and 
within  a  little  more  than  a  century  afterwards,  the  de- 
scendants of  those  terrible  heathens,  who  had  spared 
neither  priest  nor  altar,  were  the  most  redoubtable  defen- 
ders of  the  Christian  Church  ;  their  old  language  forgot- 
ten (save  by  a  few  in  the  town  of  Bayeux),  their 
ancestral    names  '^)    save    among   a   few    of   the    noblest) 

1  "Roman  de  Rou,"  part  i.  v.  1914. 

^  The  reason  why  the  Normans  lost  their  old  names  is  to  be 
found  in  their  conversion  to  Christianity.  They  were  baptized ; 
and  Franks,  as  their  godfathers,  gave  them  new  appellations. 


20  HAPcOLD. 

changed  into  French  titles,  and  little  else  but  the  in- 
domitable valor  of  the  Scandinavian  remained  unaltered 
amongst  the  arts  and  mannors  of  the  Frankish-Norman. 

In  like  manner  their  kindred  tribes,  who  had  poured 
into  Saxon-England  to  ravage  and  lay  desolate,  had  no 
sooner  obtained  from  .Alfred  tha  Great  permanent  homes, 
than  they  became  perhaps  the  most  powerful,  and  in  a 
short  time  not  the  least  patriotic  part  of  the  Anglo-Saxon 
population.^  At  the  time  our  story  opens,  these  North- 
men, under  the  common  name  of  Danes,  were  peaceably 
settled  in  no  less  than  fifteen  '■^  counties  in  England  ;  their 
nobles  abounded  in  towns  and  cities  beyond  the  boundaries 

Thu«,  Charles  the  Simple  insists  that  Eolf-ganger  shall  change  hia 
law  (creed),  and  his  namej  and  Rolf  or  Ron  is  christened  Robert 
A  few  of  tho^;e  who  retained  Scandinavian  names  at  the  time  of 
the  Con()uest  will  be  cited  hereafter. 

1  Thus  in  991,  about  a  century  after  the  first  settlement,  the 
Danes  of  East  Angh"a  gave  the  only  efficient  resistance  to  the  host 
of  the  Vikings  under  Justin  and  Gurthmuud;  and  Brithnoth,  cele- 
brated by  the  Saxon  poet,  as  a  Saxon,  par  e.rcellenre  the  heroic 
defender  of  his  native  soil,  was  in  all  probability  of  Danish  descent. 
Mr  Laing,  in  his  preface  to  his  translation  of  the  Ile'imskrinqla, 
truly  observes,  "  that  the  rebellions  against  William  the  Conqueror, 
and  his  successors,  appear  to  have  been  almost  always  raised,  or 
mainly  supported,  in  the  counties  of  recent  Uanisli  descent,  not  ia 
those  peopled  by  the  old  Anglo-Saxon  race," 

The  portion  of  Mercia  consisting  of  the  burghs  of  Lancaster, 
Lincoln,  Nottingham,  Stamford,  and  Derby,  became  a  Danish  State 
in  A.  D.  877;  East  Anglia,  consisting  of  Cambridge,  Suffoll?,  Nor- 
folk, and  the  Isle  of  Elv,  in  a.  d.  879-80;  and  the  vast  territory  of 
Northumbria,  extending  all  north  the  Humber,  into  all  that  part  of 
Scotland  south  of  the  Firth,  in  a.  d.  876.  —  See  Palgrave's 
"Commonwealth."  But,  besides  their  more  allotted  settlements, 
the  Danes  were  interspersed  as  land  owners  all  over  England. 

2  Bromton  Chron., — namely,  P^ssex,  Middlesex,  Suffolk,  Norfolk, 
Herts,  Cambridgeshire,  Hants,  Lincoln,  Notts,  Derby,  Northamp- 
ton, Leicestershire,  Bucks,  Beds,  and  the  vast  territory  called 
iiiortliumbria. 


HAROLD.  21 

of  those  counties  which  bore  the  distinct  appellation  of 
Danelagh.  They  were  numerous  in  London,  in  the  pre- 
cincts of  which  they  had  their  own  burial-place,  to  the 
chief  municijDal  court  of  which  they  gave  their  own  appel- 
lation,—  the  Hustings.'  Their  power  in  the  national 
assembly  of  the  Witan  had  decided  the  choice  of  kings. 
Thus,  with  some  differences  of  law  and  dialect,  these  once 
turbulent  invaders  had  amalgamated  amicably  with  the 
native  race.'^  And  to  this  day  the  gentry,  traders,  and 
farmers  of  more  than  one-tliird  of  England,  and  in  those 
counties  most  confessed  to  be  in  the  van  of  improvement, 
descend,  from  Saxon  mothers  indeed,  but  from  Viking 
fathers.  There  was  in  reality  little  difi'erence  in  race 
between  the  Norman  knight  of  the  time  of  Henry  I.  and 
the  Saxon  franklin  of  Xorfolk  and  York.  Both  on  the 
mother's  side  would  most  probably  have  been  Saxon,  both 
on  the  father's  would  have  traced  to  the  Scandinavian. 

But  though  this  character  of  adaptability  was  general, 
exceptions  in  some  points  were  necessarily  found,  and 
these  were  obstinate  in  proportion  to  the  adherence  to 
the  old  pagan  faith,  or  the  sincere  conversion  to  Christ- 
ianity. The  Norwegian  chronicles,  and  passages  in  our 
own  history,  show  how  false  and  hollow  Avas  the  assumed 
Christianity  of  many  of  these  fierce  Odin-worshippers. 
They  willingly  enough  accepted  the  outward  sign  of  bap- 
tism, but  the  holy  water  changed  little  of  the  inner  man. 

1  Palgrave's  "  History  of  England,"  p.  315. 

2  The  laws  collected  by  Edward  the  Confessor,  and  in  later 
times  so  often  and  so  fondly  referred  to,  contain  many  intro- 
duced by  the  Danes,  which  had  grown  popular  with  the  Saxon 
people.  Much  which  we  ascribe  to  the  Norman  Conqueror  pre- 
existed in  the  Anglo-Danish,  and  may  be  found  both  in  Normandy 
and  parts  of  Scandinavia  to  this  day.  —  See  llakewell's  "  Treatise 
on  the  Antiquity  of  Laws  in  this  Island."  in  Hearne's  "  Curious 
Discourses." 


22  HAROLD. 

Even  Harold,  the  son  of  Canute,  scarce  seventeen  years 
before  the  date  we  have  now  entered,  being  unable  to 
obtain  from  the  archbishop  of  Canterbury,  who  had 
espoused  the  cause  of  his  brother  Hardicanute,  the  conse- 
crating benediction,  lived  and  reigned  as  one  "  who  had 
abjured  Christianity."^ 

The  priests,  especially  on  the  Scandinavian  continent, 
were  often  forced  to  compound  with  their  grim  converts, 
by  indulgence  to  certain  habits,  such  as  indiscriminate 
polygamy.  To  eat  horse-flesh  in  honor  of  Odin,  and  to 
marry  wives  ad  libitum,  were  the  main  stipulations  of  the 
neophytes.  And  the  puzzled  monks,  often  driven  to  a 
choice,  yielded  the  point  of  the  wives,  but  stood  firm  on 
the  graver  article  of  the  horse-flesh. 

With  their  new  religion,  very  imperfectly  understood 
even  when  genuinely  received,  they  retained  all  that  host 
of  heathen  superstition  which  knits  itself  with  the  most 
obstinate  instincts  in  the  human  breast.  Not  many  years 
before  the  reign  of  the  Confessor,  the  laws  of  the  great 
Canute  against  witchcraft  and  charms,  the  worship  of 
stones,  fountains,  runes  by  ash  and  elm,  and  the  incanta- 
tions that  do  homage  to  the  dead,  were  obviously  rather 
intended  to  apply  to  the  recent  Danish  converts  than  to 
the  Anglo-Saxons,  already  subjugated  for  centuries,  body 
and  soul,  to  the  domination  of  the  Christian  monks. 

Hilda,  a  daughter  of  the  royalty  of  Denmark,  and  cousin 
to  Githa  (niece  to  Canute,  whom  that  king  had  bestowed 
in  second  espousals  upon  Godwin),  had  come  over  to 
England  with  a  fierce  Jarl,  her  husband,  a  year  after 
Canute's  accession  to  the  throne,  —  both  converted  nomi- 
nally, both  secretly  believers  in  Thor  and  Odin. 

Hilda's  husband  had  fallen  in  one  of  the  actions  in  the 
Northern  seas  between  Canute  and  St.   Olave,  King  of 

1  Palgrave's  "  History  of  England,"  p.  322. 


HAEOLD.  23 

Norway  (that  saint  himself,  by  the  by,  a  most  ruthless 
persecutor  of  his  forefathers'  faith,  and  a  most  unquali- 
fied practical  assertor  of  his  heathen  privilege  to  extend 
his  domestic  affections  beyond  the  severe  pale  which 
should  have  confined  them  to  a  single  wife.  His  natural 
son  Magnus  then  sat  on  the  Danish  throne).  The  Jarl 
died  as  he  had  wished  to  die,  the  last  man  on  board  his 
ship,  with  the  soothing  conviction  that  the  Valkyrs  would 
bear  him  to  Valhalla. 

Hilda  was  left  with  an  only  daughter,  whom  Canute 
bestowed  on  Ethelwolf,  a  Saxon  earl  of  large  domains 
and  tracing  his  descent  from  Penda,  that  old  king  of 
Mercia  who  refused  to  be  converted,  but  said  so  dis- 
creetly, "  that  he  had  no  objection  to  his  neighbors  being 
Christians,  if  they  w^ould  practise  that  peace  and  forgive- 
ness which  the  monks  told  him  were  the  elements  of  the 
faith." 

Ethelwolf  fell  under  the  displeasure  of  Hardicanute, 
perhaps  because  he  was  more  Saxon  than  Danish  ;  and 
though  that  savage  king  did  not  dare  openly  to  arraign 
him  before  the  Witan,  he  gave  secret  orders  by  which  he 
was  butchered  on  his  own  hearthstone,  in  the  arms  of  his 
wife,  who  died  shortly  afterwards  of  grief  and  terror. 
The  only  orphan  of  this  unhappy  pair,  Edith,  was  thus 
consigned  to  the  charge  of  Hilda. 

It  was  a  necessary  and  invaluable  characteristic  of 
that  "adaptability  "  Avhich  distinguished  the  Danes,  that 
they  transferred  to  the  land  in  which  they  settled  all  the 
love  they  had  borne  to  that  of  their  ancestors ;  and,  so 
far  as  attachment  to  soil  was  concerned,  Hilda  had  grown 
no  less  in  heart  an  Englishwoman  than  if  she  had  been 
born  and  reared  amidst  the  glades  and  knolls  from  which 
the  smoke  of  her  hearth  rose  through  the  old  Roman 
compluviura. 


24  HAKOLD. 

But  in  all  else  she  was  a  Dane.  Dane  in  her  creed 
and  her  habits,  —  Dane  in  her  intense  and  brooding 
imagination  ;  in  the  poetry  that  filled  her  soul,  peo[)led 
the  air  with  spectres,  and  covered  the  leaves  of  the  trees 
Avith  charms.  Living  in  austere  seclusion  after  the  death 
of  her  lord,  to  whom  she  had  borne  a  Scandinavian 
woman's  devoted  but  heroic  love ;  sorrowing,  indeed,  for 
his  death,  but  rejoicing  that  he  fell  amidst  the  feast  of 
ravens,  —  her  mind  settled  more  and  more,  year  by  year 
and  day  by  day,  upon  those  visions  of  the  unknown 
M'orld  which  in  every  faith  conjure  up  the  companions  of 
solitude  and  grief. 

Witchcraft  in  the  Scandinavian  Xorth  assumed  many 
forms,  and  was  connected  by  many  degrees.  There  was 
the  old  and  withered  hag,  on  whom,  in  our  later  mediaeval 
ages,  the  character  was  mainly  bestowed ;  there  was  the 
terrific  witch-wife,  or  wolf- witch,  who  seems  wholly 
apart  from  human  birth  and  attributes,  like  the  weird  sis- 
ters of  Macbeth,  —  creatures  who  entered  the  house  at 
night,  and  seized  warriors  to  devour  them,  who  might  be 
seen  gliding  over  the  sea,  with  the  carcass  of  the  wolf 
dripping  blood  from  their  giant  jaws  ;  and  there  was  the 
more  serene,  classical,  and  awful  vala,  or  sibyl,  wdio, 
honored  by  chiefs  and  revered  by  nations,  foretold  the 
future,  and  advised  the  deeds  of  heroes.  Of  these  last, 
the  Norse  chronicles  tell  us  much.  They  were  often  of 
rank  and  wealth,  they  were  accompanied  by  trains  of 
handmaids  and  servants,  —  kings  led  them  (when  their 
counsel  was  sought)  to  the  place  of  honor  in  the  hall,  and 
their  heads  were  sacred,  as  those  of  ministers  to  the  gods. 

This  last  state  in  the  grisly  realm  of  the  Wig-l;er 
(wizarddore)  was  the  one  naturally  appertaining  to  the 
high  rank,  and  the  soul,  lofty  though  blind  and  perverted, 
of  the  daughter  of  warrior-kings.     All  practice  of  the  art 


HAROLD.  25 

to  which  now  for  long  years  she  had  devoted  herself,  that 
touched  upon  the  humble  destinies  of  the  vulgar,  the 
child  of  Odin  ^  haughtily  disdained.  Her  reveries  were 
upon  the  fate  of  kings  and  kingdoms  ;  she  aspired  to  save 
or  to  rear  the  dynasties  which  should  rule  the  races  yet 
unborn.  In  youth  proud  and  ambitious,  —  common  faults 
with  her  countrywomen, — on  her  entrance  into  the 
darker  world,  she  carried  with  her  the  prejudices  and  pas- 
sions that  she  had  known  in  that  colored  by  the  external 
sun. 

All  her  human  affections  were  centred  in  her  grand- 
child Edith,  the  last  of  a  race  royal  on  either  side.  Her 
researches  into  the  future  had  assured  her,  that  the  life 
and  death  of  this  fair  child  were  entwined  wilh  the  fates 
of  a  king,  and  the  same  oracles  had  intimated  a  mysterious 
and  inseparable  connection  between  her  own  shattered 
house  and  the  flourishing  one  of  Earl  Godwin,  the  spouse 
of  her  kinswoman  Githa  ;  so  that  with  this  great  family 
she  was  as  intimately  bound  by  the  links  of  superstition  as 
by  the  ties  of  blood.  The  eldest-born  of  Godwin,  Sweyn, 
had  been  at  first  especially  her  care  and  her  favorite ;  and 
he,  of  more  poetic  temperament  than  his  brothers,  had 
willingly  submitted  to  her  influence.  But  of  all  the 
brethren,  as  will  be  seen  hereafter,  the  career  of  Sweyn 
had  been  most  noxious  and  ill-omened,  and  at  that 
moment,  while  the  rest  of  the  house  carried  with  it  into 
exile  the  deep  and  indignant  sympathy  of  England,  no 
man  said  of  Sweyn  "  God  ble.ss  him  ! " 

But  as  the  second  son,  Harold,  had  grown  from  child- 
hood into  youth,  Hilda  had  singled  him  out  with  a 
preference  even  more  marked  than  that  she  had  bestowed 

1  The  name  of  this  god  is  spelt  Odin  when  referred  to  as  the 
object  of  Scandiuaviau  worship,  —  Woden  when  applied  directly  to 
the  deity  of  the  Saxons. 


26  HAHOLD. 

upon  Sweyn.  The  stars  and  the  runes  assured  her  of  his 
future  greatness,  and  the  qualities  and  talents  of  the 
young  earl  had,  at  the  very  onset  of  his  career,  confirmed 
the  accuracy  of  their  predictions.  Her  interest  in  Harold 
became  the  more  intense,  partly  because  whenever  she 
consulted  the  future  for  the  lot  of  her  grandchild  Edith, 
she  invariably  found  it  associated  with  the  fate  of  Harold, 
—  partly  because  all  her  arts  had  failed  to  penetrate 
beyond  a  certain  point  in  their  joint  destinies,  and  left 
her  mind  agitated  and  perplexed  between  hope  and  ter- 
ror. As  yet,  however,  she  had  wholly  failed  in  gaining 
any  ascendancy  over  the  young  earl's  vigorous  and  health- 
ful mind  ;  and  though,  before  his  exile,  he  came  more 
often  than  any  of  Godwin's  sons  to  the  old  Roman 
house,  he  had  smiled  with  proud  incredulity  at  her  vague 
prophecies,  and  rejected  all  her  offers  of  aid  from  invisible 
agencies  with  the  calm  reply,  "The  brave  man  wants  no 
charms  to  encourage  him  to  his  duty,  and  the  good  man 
scorns  all  warnings  that  would  deter  him  from  fulfilling 
it." 

Indeed,  though  Hilda's  magic  was  not  of  the  malevo- 
lent kind,  and  sought  the  source  of  its  oracles  not  in 
fiends  but  gods  (at  least  the  gods  in  whom  she  believed), 
it  was  noticeable  that  all  over  whom  her  influence  had 
prevailed  had  come  to  miserable  and  untimely  ends  ;  — 
not  alone  her  husband  and  her  son-in-law  (both  of  whom 
had  been  as  wax  to  her  counsel),  but  such  other  chiefs  as 
rank  or  ambition  permitted  to  appeal  to  her  lore.  Never- 
theless, such  was  the  ascendancy  she  had  gained  over  the 
popular  mind,  that  it  would  have  been  dangerous  in  the 
highest  degree  to  put  into  execution  against  her  the  laws 
condemnatory  of  witchcraft.  In  her,  all  the  more  power- 
ful Danish  families  reverenced,  and  would  have  protected, 
the  blood  of  their  ancient  kings,  and  the  widow  of  cue  of 


HAKOLD.  27 

their  most  renowned  heroes.  Hospitable,  liberal,  and 
beneficent  to  the  poor,  and  an  easy  mistress  over  numer- 
ous ceorls,  while  the  vulgar  dreaded,  they  would  yet  have 
defended  her.  Proofs  of  her  art  it  would  have  been  hard 
'  to  establish  ;  hosts  of  compurgators  to  attest  her  inno- 
cence would  have  sprung  up.  Even  if  subjected  to  the 
ordeal,  her  gold  could  easily  have  bribed  the  priests  with 
whom  the  power  of  evading  its  dangers  rested.  And 
with  that  worldly  wisdom  which  persons  of  genius  in 
their  wildest  chimeras  rarely  lack,  she  had  already  freed 
herself  from  the  chance  of  active  persecution  from  the 
Church  by  ample  donations  to  all  the  neighboring 
monasteries. 

Hilda,  in  fine,  was  a  woman  of  sublime  desires  and 
extraordinary  gifts  ;  terrible,  indeed,  but  as  the  passive 
agent  of  the  Fates  she  invoked,  and  rather  command- 
ing for  herself  a  certain  troubled  admiration  and  myste- 
rious pity  :  no  fiend-hag,  beyond  humanity,  in  malice  and 
in  power,  but  essentially  human,  even  when,  aspiring 
most  to  the  secrets  of  a  god.  Assuming,  for  the  moment, 
that,  by  the  aid  of  intense  imagination,  persons  of  a 
peculiar  idiosyncrasy  of  nerves  and  temperament  might 
attain  to  such  dim  affinities  with  a  world  beyond  our 
ordinary  senses,  as  forbid  entire  rejection  of  the  magne- 
tism and  magic  of  old  times,  —  it  was  on  no  foul  and 
mephitic  pool,  overhung  with  the  poisonous  nightshade, 
and  excluded  from  the  beams  of  heaven,  but  on  the  living 
stream  on  which  the  star  trembled,  and  beside  whose 
banks  the  green  herbage  waved,  that  the  demon  shadows 
fell  dark  and  dread. 

Thus  safe  and  thus  awful,  lived  Hilda  ;  and  under 
her  care,  a  rose  beneath  the  funeral  cedar,  bloomed  her 
grandchild  Edith,  goddaughter  of  the  Lady  of  England. 

It  was   the  anxious  wish,   both   of  Edward    and  his 


28  HAROLD. 

virgin  wife,  pious  as  himself,  to  save  this  orphan  from 
the  contamination  of  a  house  more  than  suspected  of 
heathen  faith,  and  give  to  her  youth  the  refuge  of  the 
convent.  But  this,  without  her  guardian's  consent  or 
her  own  expressed  will,  could  not  be  legally  done  ;  and 
Edith  as  yet  had  expressed  no  desire  to  disobey  her 
grandmother,  who  treated  the  idea  of  the  convent  with 
lofty  scorn. 

This  beautiful  child  grew  up  under  the  influence,  as 
it  were,  of  two  contending  creeds,  —  all  her  notions  on 
both  were  necessarily  confused  and  vague.  But  her 
heart  was  so  genuinely  mild,  simple,  tender,  and  devo- 
ted, —  there  was  in  her  so  much  of  the  inborn  excel- 
lence of  the  sex,  that  in  every  impulse  of  that  heart 
struggled  for  clearer  light  and  for  purer  air  the  unquiet 
soul.  In  manner,  in  thought,  and  in  person,  as  yet 
almost  an  infant,  deep  in  her  heart  lay  yet  one  woman's 
secret,  known  scarcely  to  herself,  but  which  taught  her, 
more  powerfully  than  Hilda's  proud  and  scoffing  tongue, 
to  shudder  at  the  thought  of  the  barren  cloister  and  the 
eternal  vow. 


HAROLD.  29 


CHAPTER   in. 

While  King  Edward  was  narrating  to  the  Norman  Duke 
all  that  he  knew,  and  all  that  he  knew  not  of  Hilda's 
history  and  secret  arts,  the  road  wound  through  lands 
as  wild  and  wold-like  as  if  the  metropolis  of  England  lay 
a  hundred  miles  distant.  Even  to  this  day,  patches  of 
such  land  in  the  neighborhood  of  Norwood,  may  betray 
what  the  country  was  in  the  old  time,  when  a  mighty 
forest,  "  abounding  with  wild  beasts,"  —  "  the  bull  and 
the  boar,"  —  skirted  the  suburbs  of  London,  and  afforded 
pastime  to  king  and  thegn.  For  the  Norman  kings  have 
been  maligned  by  the  popidar  notion  that  assigns  to  them 
all  the  odium  of  the  forest  laws.  Harsh  and  severe  were 
those  laws  in  the  reign  of  the  Anglo-Saxon,  as  harsh  and 
severe,  perhaps,  against  the  ceorl  and  the  poor  man  as 
in  the  days  of  Rufus,  though  more  mild  unquestionably 
to  the  nobles.  To  all  beneath  the  rank  of  abbot  and 
thegn,  the  king's  woods  were  made,  even  by  the  mild 
Confessor,  as  sacred  as  the  groves  of  the  Druids  ;  and  no 
less  penalty  than  that  of  life  was  incurred  by  the  low- 
born huntsman  who  violated  their  recesses. 

Edward's  only  mundane  passion  was  the  chase  ;  and 
a  day  rarely  passed,  but  what,  after  mass,  he  went  forth 
with  hawk  or  hound.  So  that,  though  the  regular  season 
for  hawking  did  not  commence  till  October,  he  had  ever 
on  his  wrist  some  young  falcon  to  essay,  or  some  old 
favorite  to  exercise.  And  now,  just  as  William  was 
beginning  to    grow   weary    of   his   good    cousin's    prolix 


30  HAROLD. 

recitals,  the  hounds  suddenly  gave  tongue,  and  from  a 
sedge-grown  pool  by  the  way-side,  with  solemn  wing 
and  harsh  boom,  rose  a  bittern. 

"  Holy  St.  Peter  !  "  exclaimed  the  Saint  King,  spurring 
his  palfrey,  and  loosing  his  famous  Peregrine  falcon.^ 
"William  was  not  slow  in  following  that  animated  ex- 
ample, and  the  whole  company  rode  at  half-speed  across 
the  rough  forest-land,  straining  their  eyes  upon  the  soar- 
ing quarry  and  the  large  wheels  of  the  falcons.  Riding 
thus,  with  his  eyes  in  the  air,  Edward  was  nearly  pitched 
over  his  palfrey's  head,  as  the  animal  stopped  suddenly, 
checked  by  a  high  gate,  set  deep  in  a  half-embattled  wall 
of  brick  and  rubble.  Upon  this  gate  sat,  quite  unmoved 
and  apathetic,  a  tall  ceorl,  or  laborer,  while  behind  it 
was  a  gazing  curious  group  of  men  of  the  same  rank,  clad 
in  those  blue  tunics  of  which  our  peasant's  smock  is 
the  successor,  and  leaning  on  scythes  and  flails.  Sour 
and  ominous  wei'e  the  looks  they  bent  upon  that  Norman 
cavalcade.  The  men  were  at  least  as  well  clad  as  those 
of  the  same  condition  are  now ;  and  their  robust  limbs 
and  ruddy  cheeks  showed  no  lack  of  the  fare  that  sup- 
ports labor.  Indeed,  the  working-man  of  that  day,  if 
not  one  of  the  absolute  theowes,  or  slaves,  was,  physically 
speaking,  better  off,  perhaps,  than  he  has  ever  since  been 
in  England,  more  especially  if  he  appertained  to  some 
wealthy  thegn  of  pure  Saxon  lineage,  whose  very  title 
of  lord  came  to  him  in  his  quality  of  dispenser  of  bread  ;^ 
and  these  men  had  been  ceorls  under  Harold,  son  of 
Godwin,   now  banished  from  the  land. 

1  The  Peregrine  hawk  built  on  tlie  rocks  of  Llandudno,  and  this 
breed  was  celebrated,  even  to  the  davs  of  Elizabetli.  Burlei2:h 
thanks  one  of  the  Mostyns  for  a  cast  of  hawks  from  Llandudno. 

-  lllaf,  loaf,  —  Hlaford,  lord,  giver  of  bread, —  Hleafdiau,  lady, 
server  of  bread.  —  Versikgan. 


HAIWLD.  31 

"  Open  the  gate,  —  open  quick,  my  merry  men,"  said 
the  gentle  Edward  (speaking  in  Saxon,  though  with  a 
strong  foreign  accent),  after  he  had  recovered  his  seat, 
murmured  a  benediction,  and  crossed  himself  three  times. 
The  men  stirred  not. 

"  No  horse  tramps  the  seeds  we  have  sown  for  Harold 
the  Earl  to  reap.''  said  the  ceorl,  doggedly,  still  seated  on 
the  gate.  And  the  group  behind  him  gave  a  shout  of 
applause. 

Moved  more  than  ever  he  had  been  known  to  be 
before,  Edward  spurred  his  steed  up  to  the  boor,  and 
lifted  his  hand.  At  that  signal  twenty  swords  flashed  in 
the  air  behind,  as  the  Norman  nobles  spurred  to  the 
place.  Putting  back  with  one  hand  his  fierce  attendants, 
Edward  shook  the  other  at  the  Saxon.  "  Knave,  knave," 
he  cried,  "  I  would  hurt  you,  if  I  could  ! " 

There  was  something  in  these  words,  fated  to  drift 
down  into  history,  at  once  ludicrous  and  touching.  The 
Normans  saw  them  only  in  the  former  light,  and  turned 
aside  to  conceal  their  laughter ;  the  Saxon  felt  them  in 
the  latter  and  truer  sense,  and  stood  rebuked.  That  great 
king,  whom  he  now  recognized,  with  all  those  drawn 
swords  at  his  back,  could  not  do  him  hurt ;  that  king 
had  not  the  heart  to  hurt  him.  The  ceorl  sprang  from 
the  gate,  and  opened  it,  bending  low. 

"  Ride  first,  Count  William,  my  cousin,"  said  the  king, 
calmly. 

The  Saxon  ceorl's  eyes  glared  as  he  heard  the  Nor- 
man's name  uttered  in  the  Norman  tongue,  but  he  kept 
open  the  gate,  and  the  train  passed  through,  Edward  lin- 
gering last.     Then  .said  the  king,  in  a  low  voice,  — 

"  Bold  man,  thou  spokest  of  Harold  the  Earl  and  his 
harvests  ;  knowest  thou  not  that  his  lands  have  passed 
from  him,  and  that  he  is  outlawed,  and  his  harvests  are 
not  for  the  scythes  of  his  ceorls  to  reap  1  " 


32  HAROLD. 

"  May  it  please  yon,  dread  Lord  and  King,"  replied  the 
Saxon,  simply,  "■  these  lands  that  were  Harold  the  Earl's 
are  now  Clapa's,  the  sixhasndnian's." 

"How  is  that?"  quoth  Edward,  hastily;  "we  gave 
them  neither  to  sixhgendman  nor  to  tSaxon.  All  the 
lands  of  Harold  hereabout  were  divided  amongst  sacred 
abbots  and  noble  chevaliers,  —  l^ormans  all.  ' 

"  Fuike  the  Norman  had  these  laii  fields,  yon  orchards 
and  tynen ;  Fulke  sold  them  to  Clapa,  the  earl's  six- 
hjEndman,  and  what  in  mancusses  and  pence  Clapa 
lacked  of  the  price,  we,  the  ceorls  of  the  earl,  made  up 
from  our  own  earnings  in  the  earl's  noble  service.  And 
this  very  day,  in  token  thereof,  have  we  quaffed  the 
bedden-ale.^  Wherefore,  please  God  and  our  Lady,  we 
hold  these  lands  part  and  parcel  with  Clapa ;  and  when 
Earl  Harold  comes  again,  as  come  he  will,  here  at  least 
he  will  have  his  own." 

Edward,  who,  despite  a  singular  simplicity  of  charac- 
ter, which  at  times  seemed  to  border  on  imbecility,  was 
by  no  means  wanting  in  penetration  when  his  attention 
was  fairly  roused,  changed  countenance  at  this  proof  of 
rough  and  homely  affection  on  the  part  of  these  men  to 
his  banished  earl  and  brother-in-law.  He  mused  a  little 
while  in  grave  thought,  and  then  said,  kindly,  — 

"Well,  man,  I  think  not  the  worse  of  you  for  loyal 
love  to  your  thegn,  but  there  are  those  who  would  do  so  ; 
and  I  advise  you,  brother-like,  that  ears  and  nose  are  in 
peril  if  thou  talkest  thus  indiscreetly." 

"  Steel  to  steel,  and  hand  to  hand,"  said  the  Saxon, 
bluntly,  touching    the  long    knife  in  his    leathern  belt ; 

^  Bedden-ale.  When  any  man  was  set  up  iu  his  estate  by  the 
contributions  of  his  friends,  those  friends  were  bid  to  a  feast,  and 
the  ale  so  drank  was  called  the  beddeuale,  from  bedden,  to  pray 
or  to  bid.     (See  Braud's  " Pop.  Autiq. ") 


HAROLD.  33 

"  and  he  who  sets  gripe  on  Sexwolf,  son  of  Elfhelm,  shall 
pay  his  weregeld  twice  over." 

"  Forewarned,  foolish  man,  thou  art  forewarned. 
Peace,"  said  the  king ;  and,  shaking  his  head,  he  rode 
on  to  join  the  Normans,  who  now,  in  a  broad  field  where 
the  corn  sprang  green,  and  which  they  seemed  to  deHglit 
in  wantonly  trampling  as  they  curvetted  their  steeds  to 
and  fro,  watched  the  movements  of  the  bittern  and  the 
pursuit  of  the  two  falcons. 

"  A  wager.  Lord  King  ! "  said  a  prelate,  whose  strong 
family  likeness  to  William  proclaimed  him  to  he  the 
duke's  bold  and  haughty  brother,  Odo,^  Bishop  of  Bay- 
eux,  —  "a  wager.  My  steed  to  your  palfrey  that  the 
duke's  falcon  first  fixes  the  bittern." 

"  Holy  father,"  answered  Edward,  in  that  slight  change 
of  voice  which  alone  showed  his  displeasure,  "■  these 
wagers  all  savor  of  heathenesse,  and  our  canons  forbid 
them  to  mone^  and  priest.     Go  to,  it  is  naught." 

The  bishop,  who  brooked  no  rebuke,  even  from  his 
terrible  brother,  knit  his  brows,  and  was  about  to  make  no 
gentle  rejoinder,  when  William,  whose  profound  craft  or 
sagacity  was  always  at  watch  lest  his  followers  should 
displease  the  king,  interposed,  and,  taking  the  word  out 
of  the  prelate's  mouth,  said,  — 

"  Thou  reprovest  us  well,  sir  and  king :  we  Normans 
are  too  inclined  to  such  levities.  And  see,  your  falcon  is 
first  in  pride  of  place.  By  the  bones  of  St.  Valery,  how 
nobly  he  towers  !  See  him  cover  the  bittern  !  —  see  him 
rest  on  the  wing  !     Down  he  swoops  !     Gallant  bird  !  " 

1  Herleve  (Arlotta),  William's  mother,  married  Herluin  de  Conr 
teville,  after  the  death  of  Duke  Robert,  and  had  by  him  two  sons, 
Robert,  Count  of  Morlaiu,  and  Odo,  Bishop  of  Baj-eux.  — Okd. 
ViTAf..,  lib.  vii. 

'^  Mune,  monk. 

VOL.  I.  —  3 


34  HAROLD. 

"  With  his  heart  split  in  two  on  the  bittern's  bill," 
said  the  bishop  ;  and  down,  rolling  one  over  the  otlier, 
fell  bittern  and  hawk,  while  William's  Norway  falcon, 
smaller  of  size  than  the  king's,  descended  rapidly,  and 
hovered  over  the  two.      Both  were  dead. 

"  I  accept  the  omen,"  muttered  the  gazing  duke  ;  "  let 
the  natives  destroy  each  other  !  "  He  placed  his  whistle 
to  his  lips,  and  his  falcon  flew  back  to  his  wrist. 

*'  Now  home,"  said  King  Edward. 


HAROLD.  35- 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  royal  party  entered  London  by  the  great  bridge 
which  divided  Southwark  from  the  capital  ;  and  we 
must  pause  to  gaze  a  moment  on  the  animated  scene 
which  the  immemorial  thoroughfare  presented. 

The  whole  suburb  before  entering  Southwark  was 
rich  in  orchards  and  gardens,  lying  round  the  detached 
houses  of  the  wealthier  merchants  and  citizens.  Ap- 
proaching the  river-side  to  the  left,  the  eye  might  see 
the  two  circular  spaces  set  apart,  the  one  for  bear,  the 
other  for  bull,  baiting.  To  the  right  upon  a  green  mound 
of  waste,  within  sight  of  the  populous  bridge,  the  glee- 
men  were  exercising  their  art.  Here  one  dexterous 
juggler  threw  three  balls  and  three  knives  alternately 
in  the  air,  catching  them  one  by  one  as  they  feU.-^ 
There,  another  Avas  gravely  leading  a  great  bear  to  dance 
on  its  hind-legs,  while  his  coadjutor  kept  time  with  a 
sort  of  flute  or  flageolet.  The  lazy  by-standers,  in  great 
concourse,  stared  and  laughed  ;  but  the  laugh  was  hushed 
at  the  tramp  of  the  Norman  steeds,  —  and  the  famous 
count  by  the  king's  side,  as,  with  a  smiling  lip  but  obser- 
vant eye,  he  rode  along,  drew  all  attention  from  the 
bear. 

On  now  approaching  that  bridge  which,  not  many 
years  before,  had  been  the  scene  of  terrible  contest  be- 
tween the  invading  Danes  and  Ethelred's  ally,  Olave  of 

1  Strutt's  "  Horda." 


36  HAKOLD. 

Norway,-^  you  might  still  see,  though  neglected  and 
already  in  decay,  the  double  fortifications  that  had 
wisely  guarded  that  vista  into  the  city.  On  both  sides 
of  the  bridge,  which  was  of  wood,  were  forts,  partly  of 
timber,  partly  of  stone  and  breastworks,  and  by  the  forts 
a  little  chapel.  The  bridge,  broad  enough  to  admit  two 
vehicles  abreast,^  was  crowded  Avith  passengers,  and 
lively  with  stalls  and  booths.  Here  was  the  favorite 
spot  of  the  po})ular  ballad-singer.^  Here,  too,  might  be 
seen  the  swarthy  Saracen,  with  wares  from  Spain  and 
Afric*  Here  the  German  merchant  from  the  Steel- 
yard swept  along  on  his  way  to  his  suburban  home. 
Here,  on  some  holy  office,  went  quick  the  muffled  monk. 

1  There  is  an  animated  description  of  this  "  Rattle  of  London 
Bridge,"  which  gave  ample  theme  to  the  Scandinavian  scalds,  in 
Snorro  Stmieson  :  — 

London  Brirlge  is  broken  down  ; 
Gold  is  won  and  briglit  renown  ; 
Sliields  resounding, 
War-liorns  sounding, 
Hildur  shouting  in  the  din  ; 
Arrows  singing, 
Mail-coats  ringing, 
Odin  malves  our  Olaf  win. 

L.4ing's  Hcimskringla,  vol.  ii.  p.  10. 

2  Sharon  Turner.  ^  Hawkins,  vol.  ii.  p.  94. 

*  Doomsday  makes  mention  of  the  Moors  and  the  Germans  (the 
Emperor's  merchants)  that  were  sojourners  or  settlers  in  London. 
The  Saracens  at  that  time  were  among  the  great  merchants  of  the 
world ;  Marseilles,  Aries,  Avignon,  Montpellier,  Toulouse,  were  the 
wonted  etapes  of  their  active  traders.  What  civilizers,  what  teachers 
they  were,  —  those  same  Saracens !  How  much  in  arms  and  in  arts 
we  owe  them !  Fathers  of  the  Proven9al  poetry,  they,  far  more 
than  even  the  Scandinavian  scalds,  have  influenced  the  literature  of 
Christian  Europe.  The  most  ancient  chronicle  of  the  Cid  was 
written  in  Arabic,  a  little  before  the  Cid's  death,  by  two  of  his 
pages,  who  were  Mussulmans.  The  medical  science  of  the  Moors 
for  six  centuries  enlightened  Europe,  and  their  metaphysics  were 
adopted  in  nearly  all  the  Chvistian  universities. 


HAKOLD.  37 

Here  the  city  gallant  paused  to  langh  with  the  country 
girl,  her  basket  full  of  May-boughs  and  cowslips.  In 
short,  all  bespoke  that  activity,  whether  in  business  or 
pastime,  which  was  destined  to  render  that  city  the  mart 
of  the  world,  and  which  had  already  knit  the  trade  of 
the  Anglo-Saxon  to  the  remoter  corners  of  commercial 
Europe.  The  deep  dark  eye  of  William  dwelt  admir- 
ingly on  the  bustling  groups,  on  the  broad  river,  and 
the  forest  of  masts  which  rose  by  the  indented  marge 
near  Belin's  Gate.^  And  he  to  wdiom,  whatever  his 
faults,  or  rather  crimes,  to  the  unfortunate  people  he 
not  only  oppressed  but  deceived,  London  at  least  may 
yet  be  grateful,  not  only  for  chartered  franchise,^  but  for 
advancing,  in  one  short  vigorous  reign,  her  commerce 
and  wealth,  beyond  what  centuries  of  Anglo-Saxon  dom- 
ination, with  its  inherent  feebleness,  had  effected,  ex- 
claimed aloud,  — 

"  By  rood  and  mass,  0  dear  king,  thy  lot  hath  fallen 
on  a  goodly  heritage  !  " 

"  Hem  !  "  said  Edward,  lazily  ;  "  thou  knowest  not  how 
troublesome  these  Saxons  are.  And  vphile  thou  speakest, 
lo  !  in  yon  shattered  walls,  built  first,  they  say,  by  Alfred 
of  holy  memory,  are  the  evidences  of  the  Danes.  Bethink 
thee  how  often  they  have  sailed  up  this  river.  How 
know  I  but  what  the  next  year  the  raven  flag  may  stream 
over  these  waters  1     Magnus  of  Denmark  hath  already 

1  Billingsgate. 

2  Londou  received  a  charter  from  William  at  the  instigation  of 
the  Norman  Bishop  of  London ;  but  it  probably  only  confirmed  the 
previous  municipal  constitution,  since  it  says  briefly,  "  I  grant  you 
all  to  be  as  law-worthy  as  ye  were  in  the  days  of  King  Edward." 
The  rapid  increase,  however,  of  the  commercial  prosperity  and 
political  importance  of  London  after  the  Conquest  is  attested  in 
many  chronicles,  and  becomes  strikingly  evident  even  on  the  sur- 
face of  history. 


38  HAROLD. 

claimed  my  crown  as  heir  to  the  royalties  of  Canute,  and  " 
(here  Edward  hesitated)  "  Godwin  and  Harold,  whom 
alone  of  my  thegns,  Dane  and  Northman  fear,  are  far 
away." 

"  Miss  not  them,  Edward,  my  cousin,"  cried  the  duke, 
in  haste.  "  Send  for  me  if  danger  threat  thee.  Ships 
enow  await  thy  hest  in  my  new  port  of  Cherbourg.  AmiI 
I  tell  thee  this  for  thy  comfort,  that  were  I  king  of  the 
English,  and  lord  of  this  river,  the  citizens  of  London 
might  sleep  from  vespers  to  prime  without  fear  of  the 
Dane.  Never  again  should  the  raven  flag  be  seen  by  this 
bridge  !     Never,  I  swear,  by  the  Splendor  Divine  !  " 

Not  without  purpose  spoke  William  thus  stoutly  ;  and 
he  turned  on  the  king  those  glittering  eyes  {niicantes 
oculos),  which  the  chroniclers  have  praised  and  noted. 
For  it  was  his  hope  and  his  aim  in  this  visit  that  his 
cousin  Edward  should  formally  promise  him  that  goodly 
heritage  of  England.  But  the  king  made  no  rejoinder, 
and  they  now  neared  the  end  of  the  bridge. 

"  AVhat  old  ruin  looms  yonder  ? "  ^  asked  William, 
hiding  his  disappointment  at  Edward's  silence :  "  it 
seemeth  the  remains  of  some  stately  keep,  which,  by 
its  fashion,  I  should  pronounce  Roman." 

"Ay  !  "  said  Edward,  —  "  it  is  said  to  have  been  built 

1  There  seems  good  reason  for  believing  that  a  keep  did  stand 
where  the  Tower  stands,  before  the  Conquest,  and  that  William's 
edifice  spared  some  of  its  remains.  In  the  very  interesting  letter 
from  John  Bayford  relating  to  the  city  of  London  (Lei.  Collect., 
Iviii),  the  writer,  a  thorough  master  of  his  subject,  states  that  "  the 
Eomans  made  a  puldic  military  way,  that  of  Watling  Street,  from 
the  Tower  to  Ludgate,  in  a  straight  line,  at  the  end  of  which  they 
built  stations  or  citadels,  one  of  which  was  where  the  White  Tower 
now  stands."  Bayford  adds  that,  "  when  the  White  Tower  was 
Utted  up  for  the  reception  of  records,  there  remained  many  Saxon 
inscriptions." 


HAROLD.  39 

by  the  Romans  ;  and  one  of  the  old  Lombard  freemasons 
employed  on  my  new  palace  of  "Westminster  giveth  that, 
and  some  others  in  my  domain,  the  name  of  the  Juillet 
Tower." 

"  Those  Romans  were  our  masters  in  all  things  gallant 
and  wise,"  said  William  ;  "and  I  predict  that,  some  day 
or  other,  on  that  site,  a  king  of  England  will  re-erect 
palace  and  tower.     And  yon  castle  towards  the  West  1 " 

"Is  the  Tower  Palatine,  where  our  predecessors  have 
lodged,  and  ourself  sometimes  ;  but  the  sweet  loneliness 
of  Thorney  Isle  pleaseth  me  more  now." 

Thus  talking,  they  entered  London,  a  rude,  dark  city, 
built  mainly  of  timbered  houses :  streets  narrow  and 
winding;  windows  rarely  glazed,  but  protected  chiefly 
by  linen  blinds ;  vistas  opening,  however,  at  times  into 
broad  spaces,  round  the  various  convents,  where  green 
trees  grew  up  behind  low  palisades.  Tall  roods  and  holy 
images,  to  which  we  owe  the  names  of  existing  thorough- 
fares (Rood-lane  and  Lady-lane  ^),  where  the  ways  crossed 
attracted  the  curious  and  detained  the  pious.  Spires 
there  were  not  then,  but  blunt  cone-headed  turrets,  pyram- 
idal, denoting  the  Houses  of  God,  rose  often  from  the 
low,  thatched,  and  reeded  roofs.  But  every  now  and 
then,  a  scholar's  if  not  an  ordinary  eye  could  behold  the 
relics  of  Roman  splendor,  traces  of  that  elder  city  which 
now  lies  buried  under  our  thoroughfares,  and  of  which, 
year  by  year,  are  dug  up  the  stately  skeletons. 

Along  the  Thames  still  rose,  though  much  mutilated, 
the  wall  of  Constantine.^  Round  the  humble  and  bar- 
barous church  of  St.  Paul's  (wherein  lay  the  dust  of 
Sebba,  that  king  of  the  East  Saxons  who  quitted  his 
throne  for  the  sake  of  Christ,  and  of  Edward's  feeble  and 
luckless  father,  Ethelred)  might  be  seen,  still  gigantic  in 

1  Eude-lane.     Lad-lane.  —  Bayfokd.  2  Fitzstephen. 


40  HAKOLD, 

decay,  the  ruins  of  the  vast  temple  of  Diana.i  ^Many  a 
church  and  many  a  convent  pierced  their  mingled  brick 
and  timber  work  with  Roman  capital  and  shaft.  Still, 
by  the  tower,  to  which  was  afterwards  given  the  Saracen 
name  of  Barbican,  were  the  wrecks  of  the  Roman  station, 
wliere  cohorts  watched  night  and  day,  in  case  of  fire 
within  or  foe  without.^ 

In    a   niche  near    the    Aldersgate   stood    the    headless 
statue  of  Fortitude,  which  monks  and  pilgrims   deemed 
some  unknown  saint  in  the  old  time,  and  halted  to  honor. 
And  in  the  miilst  of  Bishopsgate  Street  sat  on  his  dese- 
crated throne  a  mangled  Jupiter,  his   eagle  at  his   feet. 
Many  a  half-converted  Dane  there  lingered,  and  mistook 
the  Thunderer  and  the    bird    for   Odin  and    his   hawk. 
By  Leod-gate   (the   People's  gate  ^)  still,  too,   were  seen 
the  arches  of  one  of  those  miglity  aqueducts  which  the 
Roman  learned  from  the   Etrurian.     And  close    by  the 
Still-yard    occupied    by    "  the    emperor's    cheap    men " 
(the  German  merchants)  stood,  almost  entire,  the  Roman 
temple,  extant   in  the   time   of  Geoffrey  of   Monmouth. 
Without  the  walls,   the   old  Roman  vineyards   still  put 
forth  their  green  leaves  and  crude  clusters  in  the  plains 
of  East  Smithfield,  in  the  fields  of  St.  Giles's,  and  on  the 
site  where  now  stands   Hatton  Garden.     Still   massere* 
and  cheapmen  chaffered  and  bargained  at  booth  and  stall 
in  Mart  Lane,  where   the  Romans   had  bartered  before 
them.     With  every  encroachment  on  new  soil,  within  the 
walls  and  without,  urn,  vase,  weapon,  human  bones,  were 
shovelled  out,  and  lay  disregarded  amidst  heaps  of  rubbish. 
JS'ot  on  such  evidences  of  the  past  civilization  looked 
the  practical  eye  of  the  Norman  Count ;   not  on  things, 

1  Camden.  2  Bayford:  Lelaud's  Collectanea,  p.  Iviii. 

3  Ludgate  (Leod-gate).  —  Vkkstegan. 
*  Massere,  uierchaut,  mercer. 


HAROLD.  41 

but  on  men,  looked  he ;  and,  as  silently  he  rode  on  from 
street  to  street,  out  of  those  men,  stalwart  and  tall,  busy, 
active,  toiling,  the  Man-Ruler  saw  the  Civilization  that 
vras  to  come. 

So,  gravely  through  the  small  city,  and  over  the  bridge 
that  spanned  the  little  river  of  the  Fleet,  rode  the  train 
along  the  Strand  ;  to  the  left,  smooth  sands ;  to  the  right, 
fair  pastures  below  green  holts,  thinly  studded  with 
houses  ;  over  numerous  cuts  and  inlets  running  into  the 
river,  rode  they  on.  The  hour  and  the  season  were  those 
in  which  youth  enjoyed  its  holiday,  and  gay  groups 
resorted  to  the  then  ^  fashionable  haunts  of  the  Fountain 
of  Holywell,  "streaming  forth  among  glistening  pebbles." 

So  they  gained  at  length  the  village  of  Charing,  which 
Edward  had  lately  bestowed  on  his  Abbey  of  Westmin- 
ster, and  which  was  now  filled  with  workmen,  native  and 
foreign,  employed  on  that  edifice  and  the  contiguous 
palace.  Here  they  loitered  awhile  at  the  Mews  ^  (where 
the  hawks  were  kept),  passed  by  the  rude  palace  of  stone 
and  rubble  appropriated  to  the  tributary  kings  of  Scot- 
land,^ —  a  gift  from  Edgar  to  Kenneth ;  and  finally, 
I'eaching  the  inlet  of  the  river,  which,  winding  round  the 
Isle  of  Thorney  (now  Westminster),  separated  the  rising 
church,  abbey,  and  palace  of  the  Saint-king  from  the 
main-land,  dismounted,  —  and  were  ferried  across  *  the 
narrow  stream  to  the  broad  space  round  the  royal 
residence. 

1  Fitzstephen. 

2  Meuse.  Apparently  rather  a  hawk  hospital,  from  Muta  (Cam- 
den). Du  Fresne,  in  his  Glossarj',  says  Hfitta  is  in  French  Le 
Meue,  and  a  disease  to  which  the  hawk  was  subject  on  changing 
its  feathers. 

3  Scotland-yard.  —  Strype. 

*  The  first  bridge  that  connected  Thorney  Isle  with  the  main- 
laud  is  said  to  have  been  built  by  Matilda,  wife  of  Henry  I. 


42  HAEOLD. 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  new  palace  of  Edwaixi  the  Confessor,  the  palace  of 
Westminster,  opened  its  gates  to  receive  the  Saxon  King 
and  the  Norman  Duke,  remounting  on  the  margin  of  the 
isle,  and  now  riding  side  by  side.  And  as  the  duke 
glanced  from  brows  habitually  knit,  first  over  the  pile, 
stately  though  not  yet  completed,  with  its  long  rows  of 
round  arched  windows  cased  by  indented  fringes  and  frffit 
(or  tooth)  work,  its  sweep  of  solid  columns  with  circling 
cloisters,  and  its  ponderous  towers  of  simple  grandeur  ; 
then  over  the  groups  of  courtiers,  with  close  vests,  and 
short  mantles,  and  beardless  cheeks,  that  filled  up  the 
wide  space,  to  gaze  in  homage  on  the  renowned  guest,  his 
heart  swelled  within  him,  and,  checking  his  rein,  he  drew 
near  to  his  brother  of  Bayeux,  and  whispered,  — 

*'  Is  not  this  already  the  court  of  the  Norman  ?  Behold 
yon  nobles  and  earls,  how  they  mimic  our  garb !  behold 
the  very  stones  in  yon  gate,  how  they  range  themselves, 
as  if  carved  by  the  hand  of  the  iSTorman  mason  !  Yerily 
and  indeed,  brotlier,  the  shadow  of  the  rising  sun  rests 
already  on  these  halls." 

"  Had  England  no  people,"  said  the  bishop,  "  England 
were  yours  already.  But  saw  you  not,  as  we  rode  along, 
the  lowering  brows  ?  and  heard  you  not  the  angry  mur- 
murs 1     The  villeins  are  many,  and  their  hate  is  strong." 

"  Strong  is  the  roan  I  bestride,"  said  the  duke  ;  "  but 
a  bold  rider  curbs  it  with  the  steel  of  the  bit,  and  guides 
it  with  the  goad  of  the  heel." 


HAROLD.  43 

And  now,  as  they  neared  the  gate,  a  band  of  minstrels 
in  the  pay  of  the  Norman  touched  their  instruments,  and 
woke  their  song,  —  the  household  song  of  the  Norman  : 
the  battle  hymn  of  Roland,  the  Paladin  of  Charles  the 
Great.  At  the  first  word  of  the  song,  the  Norman 
knights  and  youths,  profusely  scattered  amongst  the 
Normanized  Saxons,  caught  up  the  lay,  and  with  spark- 
ling eyes  and  choral  voices  they  welcomed  the  mighty 
duke  into  the  palace  of  the  last  meek  successor  of 
Woden. 

By  the  porch  of  the  inner  court  the  duke  flung  himself 
from  his  saddle,  and  held  the  stirrup  for  Edward  to  dis- 
mount. The  king  placed  his  hand  gently  on  his  guest's 
broad  shoulder,  and,  having  somewhat  slowly  reached  the 
ground,  embraced  and  kissed  him  in  the  sight  of  the  gor- 
geous assemblage  ;  then  led  him  by  the  hand  towards  the 
fair  chamber  which  was  set  apart  for  the  duke,  and  so 
left  him  to  his  attendants. 

William,  lost  in  thought,  suffered  himself  to  be  dis- 
robed in  silence ;  but  when  Fitzosborne,  his  favorite  con- 
fidant and  haughtiest  baron,  who  yet  deemed  himself  but 
honored  by  personal  attendance  on  his  chief,  conducted 
him  towards  the  bath,  which  adjoined  the  chamber,  he 
drew  back,  and  wrapping  round  him  more  closely  the 
gown  of  fur  that  had  been  thrown  over  his  shoulders, 
he  muttered  low,  "  Nay,  if  there  be  on  me  yet  one  speck 
of  English  dust,  let  it  rest  there  !  —  seisin,  Fitzosborne, 
seisin,  of  the  English  land."  Then,  Avaving  his  hand,  he 
dismissed  all  his  attendants  except  Fitzosborne  and  Rolf, 
Earl  of  Hereford,^  nephew  to  Edward,  but  French  on  the 
father's    side,    and    thoroughly    in    the    duke's    counsels. 

1  We  give  him  that  title,  which  this  Norman  noble  generally 
bears  in  the  Chronicles,  though  Palgrave  observes  that  he  is  rather 
to  be  styled  Earl  of  the  Magestan  (the  Welsh  Marches). 


44  HAROLD. 

Twice  the  duke  paced  the  chamber  without  vouchsafing 
a  word  to  either,  then  paused  by  the  round  window  that 
overlooked  the  Thames.  The  scene  was  fair  :  the  sun, 
towards  its  decline,  glittered  on  numerous  small  pleasure- 
boats,  which  shot  to  and  fro  between  Westminster  and 
London,  or  towards  the  opposite  shores  of  Lambeth.  His 
eye  sought  eagerly,  along  the  curves  of  the  river,  the  gray 
remains  of  the  fabled  Tower  of  Julius,  and  the  walls, 
gates,  and  turrets,  that  rose  by  the  stream,  or  above  the 
dense  mass  of  silent  roofs ;  then  it  strained  hard  to  descry 
the  tops  of  the  more  distant  masts  of  that  infant  navy, 
fostered  under  Alfred,  the  far-seeing,  for  the  future  civ- 
ilization of  wastes  unknown  and  the  empire  of  seas 
tintracked. 

The  duke  breathed  hard,  and  opened  and  closed  the 
hand  which  he  stretched  forth  into  space,  as  if  to  grasp 
the  city  he  beheld.  "  Rolf,"  said  he,  abruptly,  "  thou 
knowest,  no  doubt,  the  wealth  of  the  London  traders,  one 
and  all ;  for,  foi  de  Guilla^ime,  my  gentil  chevalier,  thou 
art  a  true  Xorman,  and  scentest  the  smell  of  gold  as  a 
hound  the  boar. " 

Rolf  smiled,  as  if  pleased  with  a  compliment  which 
simpler  men  might  have  deemed,  at  the  best,  equivocal, 
and  replied,  — 

"It  is  true,  my  liege  ;  and,  gramercy,  the  air  of  England 
sharpens  the  scent ;  for  in  this  villein  and  motley  country, 
made  up  of  all  races,  —  Saxon  and  Fin,  Dane  and  Flem- 
ing, Pict  and  Walloon,  —  it  is  not  as  with  us,  where. the 
brave  man.  and  the  pure  descent  are  held  chief  in  honor  : 
here  gold  and  land  are,  in  truth,  name  and  lordship,  — 
even  their  popular  name  for  their  national  assembly  of 
the  Witan  is  'The  Wealthy.'^  He  who  is  but  a  ceorl 
to-day,  let  liim  be  rich,  and  he  may  be  earl  to-morrow, 
1  Eadigan.  —  S.  Tuknek.  vol.  i.  p.  274. 


HAROLD.  45 

marry  in  king's  blooil,  and  rule  armies  under  a  gonfanou 
statelier  than  a  king's ;  while  lie  whose  fathers  were  eal- 
dormeu  and  princes,  if,  by  force  or  by  fraud,  by  waste  or 
by  largess,  he  become  poor,  falls  at  once  into  contempt, 
and  out  of  his  state,  —  sinks  into  a  class  they  call  'six- 
hundred  men,'  in  their  barbarous  tongue,  and  his  children 
will  probably  sink  still  lower,  into  ceorls.  "Wherefore, 
gold  is  the  thing  here  most  coveted ;  and,  by  St.  Michael, 
the  sin  is  infectious" 

William  listened  to  the  speech  with  close  attention. 

"  Good,"  said  he,  rulibing  slowly  the  palm  of  his  right 
hand  over  the  back  of  the  left ;  "  a  land  all  compact  with 
the  power  of  one  race,  a  race  of  conquering  men,  as  our 
fathers  were,  whom  nought  but  cowardice  or  treason  can 
degrade,  — such  a  land,  0  Rolf  of  Hereford,  it  were  hard 
indeed  to  subjugate,  or  decoy,  or  tame  —  " 

"So  has  my  lord  the  duke  found  the  Bretons;  and 
so  also  do  I  find  the  Welsh  upon  my  marches  of  Here- 
ford.' 

"  But,"  continued  William,  not  heeding  the  interrup- 
tion, "  where  wealth  is  more  than  blood  and  race,  chiefs 
may  be  bril  led  or  menaced  ;  and  the  multitude  —  by'r 
Lady,  the  multitude  are  the  same  in  all  lands,  mighty 
under  valiant  and  faithful  leaders,  powerless  as  sheep 
witho\it  them.  But  to  my  question,  my  gentle  Rolf,  — 
this  London  must  be  rich  ?  "  ^ 

"  Rich  enow,"  answered  Rolf,  "  to  coin  into  armed  men 
that  should  stretch  from  Rouen  to  Flanders  on  the  one 
hand,  and  Paris  on  the  other." 

"  In  the  veins  of  Matilda,  whom  thou  wooest  for  wife," 

1  The  comparative  wealth  of  London  was  indeed  considerable. 
When,  in  1018,  all  the  rest  of  England  was  taxed  to  an  amount 
considered  stupendous,  —  namely,  71,000  Sa.xon  pounds,  —  Loudon 
contributed  11,000  pounds  besides. 


46  HAROLD. 

said  Fitzos"borne,  abruptly,  "  flows  the  blood  of  Charle- 
magne. God  grant  his  empire  to  the  children  she  shall 
bear  thee  ! " 

The  duke  bowed  his  head,  and  kissed  a  relic  sus- 
pended from  his  throat.  Farther  sign  of  approval  of 
his  counsellor's  words  he  gave  not,  but,  after  a  pause, 
he  said,  — 

"  When  I  depart,  Rolf,  thou  wendest  back  to  thy 
marches.  These  Welsh  are  brave  and  fierce,  and  shape 
work  enow  for  thy  hands." 

"  Ay,  by  my  halidame  !  poor  sleep  by  the  side  of  the 
beehive  you  have  stricken  down." 

"  Marry,  then,"  said  William,  "  let  the  Welsh  prey  on 
Saxon,  Saxon  on  Welsh,  —  let  neither  win  too  easily. 
Remember  our  omens  to-day,  —  Welsh  hawk  and  Saxon 
bittern,  —  and  over  their  corpses  Duke  William's  Kor- 
way  falcon  !  Now  dress  we  for  the  complin  ^  and  the 
banquet." 

1  Complin,  the  second  vespera 


BOOK    IL 


LANFRANC   THE   SCHOLAB. 


CHAPTER  I. 

''''our  meals  a  day,  nor  those  sparing,  were  not  deemed 
too  extravagant  an  interpretation  of  the  daily  bread  tor 
which  the  Saxons  prayed.  Four  meals  a  day,  from  earl 
to  ceorl  !  "  Happy  times  !  "  may  sigh  the  descendant  of 
the  last,  if  he  read  these  pages.  Partly  so  they  were  lor 
the  ceorl,  but  not  in  all  things,  for  never  sweet  is  the 
food,  and  never  gladdening  is  the  drink,  of  servitude. 
Inebriety,  the  vice  of  the  warlike  nations  of  the  North, 
had  not,  perhaps,  been  the  pre-enunent  excess  of  the 
earlier  Saxons,  while  yet  the  active  and  fiery  Britons,  and 
the  subsequent  petty  wars  between  the  kings  of  the 
Heptarchy,  enforced  on  hardy  warriors  the  safety  of  tem- 
perance ;  but  the  example  of  the  Danes  had  been  fatal. 
Those  giants  of  the  sea,  like  all  who  pass  from  great  vicis- 
situdes of  toil  and  repose,  from  the  tempest  to  the  haven, 
snatch  with  full  hands  every  pleasure  in  their  reach. 
With  much  that  tended  permanently  to  elevate  the  char- 
acter of  the  Saxon,  they  imparted  much  for  a  time  to 
degrade  it.  The  Anglian  learned  to  feast  to  repletion 
and  drink  to  delirium.  But  such  were  not  the  vices  of 
the  court  of  the  Confessor.      Brought  u})  from   his  youth 


48  HAROLD. 

in  the  cluister-camp  of  the  Normans,  what  he  loved  in 
their  manners  was  the  abstemious  sobriety  and  tlie  cere- 
monial religion  which  distinguished  those  sons  oi:  the 
Scandinavian  from  all  other  kindred  tribes. 

The  Norman  position  in  France,  indeed,  in  much 
resembled  that  of  the  Spartan  in  Greece.  He  had  forced 
a  settlement  with  scanty  numbers  in  the  midst  of  a  su  b- 
jugated  and  sullen  population,  surrounded  by  jealous  ai  d 
formidable  foes.  Hence  sobriety  was  a  condition  of  h:s 
being,  and  the  policy  of  the  chief  lent  a  willing  ear  to  the 
lessons  oi  the  preacher.  Like  the  Spartan,  every  Norman 
of  pure  race  was  free  and  ivMe  ;  and  this  consciousness 
inspired  not  only  that  remarkable  dignity  of  mien  which 
Suarfan  and  Norman  alike  possessed,  but  also  that  iascuii- 
ous  self-respect  which  would  have  revolted  from  exnibit- 
ing  a  spectacle  of  debasement  to  inferiors.  And,  lastly, 
as  the  paucity  of  their  original  numbers,  the  perils  that 
beset,  and  the  good  fortune  that  attended  them,  served  to 
render  the  Spartans  the  most  religious  of  all  the  Greeks 
in  their  dependence  on  tlie  Divine  aid,  so,  perhaps,  to  the 
same  causes  may  be  traced  the  proverbial  piety  of  the 
ceremonial  Normans  ;  they  carried  into  their  new  creed 
something  of  feudal  loyalty  to  tlieir  spiritual  protectors, 
dill  homage  to  the  Virgin  for  the  lands  tliat  she  vouch- 
safed to  bestow,  and  recognized  in  St.  Michael  the  chief 
who  conducted   their  armies. 

After  hearing  the  complin  vespers  in  the  temporary 
chajiel  fitted  up  in  that  unfinislied  abbey  of  Westminster, 
which   occupied  the  site  of   the   temple  of   Apollo,^  the 

1  Camden. —  A  cliurcli  was  built  out  of  the  ruins  of  that  temple 
by  Sihert,  Kiiii;  of  the  East  Saxons;  and  Canute  favored  much 
the  small  moiinsUny  attaclied  to  it  (originally  established  by  Dun- 
stau  for  twelve  Benedictines),  on  ncconut  of  its  Abbot  Wuluoth, 
whoso  sofietv  pleased  liiiii.  Tlie  old  palace  of  Canute,  in  Thorney 
Isle,  had  been  destroyed  by  fire. 


HAROLD. 


4.Q 


king  and  his  guests  repaired  to  their  evening  meal  in 
the  great  hall  of  tlie  palace.  Below  the  dais  were  ranged 
three  long  tables  for  the  knights  in  William's  train,  and 
that  flower  of  the  Saxon  nobility  who,  fond,  like  all 
youth,  of  change  and  imitation,  thronged  the  court  of 
their  Normanized  saint,  and  scorned  the  rude  patriotism 
of  their  fathers.  But  hearts  truly  English  were  not 
there.  Yea,  many  of  Godwin's  noblest  foes  sighed  for 
the  English-hearted  earl,  banished  by  Norman  guile  on 
behalf  of  English  law. 

At  the  oval  table  on  the  dais  the  guests  were  select 
and  chosen.  At  the  right  hantl  of  the  king  sat  William ; 
at  the  left,  Odo  of  Bayeux.  Over  these  three  stretched 
a  canopy  of  cloth-of-gold ;  the  chairs  on  which  each  sat 
were  of  metal,  richly  gilded  over,  and  the  arms  carved 
in  elaborate  arabesques.  At  this  table,  too,  was  the 
king's  nephew,  the  Earl  of  Hereford,  and,  in  right  of 
kinsmanship  to  the  duke,  the  Norman's  beloved  baron 
and  grand  seneschal,  William  Fitzosborne,  who,  though 
in  Normandy  even  he  sat  not  at  the  duke's  table,  was, 
as  related  to  his  lord,  invited  by  Edward  to  his  own.  No 
other  guests  were  admitted  to  this  board,  so  that,  save 
Edward,  all  were  Norman.  The  dishes  were  of  gold  and 
silver,  the  cups  inlaid  with  jewels.  Before  each  guest 
was  a  knife,  with  hilt  adorned  by  precious  stones,  and 
a  napkin  fringed  with  silver.  The  meats  were  not 
placed  on  the  table,  hut  served  upon  small  spits,  and 
between  every  course  a  basin  of  perfumed  water  was 
borne  round  by  high-born  pages.  No  dame  graced  the 
festival  ;  for  she  who  should  have  presided — -she,  match- 
less for  beauty  without  pride,  piety  without  asceticism, 
and  learning  without  pedantry  —  she,  the  pale  rose  of 
England,  loved  daughter  of  Godwin,  and  loathed  wife  of 
Edward,  had  shared  in  the  fall  of  her  kindred,  and  had 

VOL.  I.  —  4 


£0  HAROLD. 

been  sent  by  tbe  meek  king,  or  his  fierce  oounsellors,  to 
an  abbey  in  Hampshire,  with  the  taunt  "  that  it  was  not 
meet  that  the  child  and  sister  shouhl  enjoy  state  and 
pomp  while  the  sire  and  brethren  ate  the  bread  of  the 
stranger  in  banishment  and  disgrace." 

But,  hungry  as  were  the  guests,  it  was  not  the  custom 
of  that  holy  court  to  fall  to  without  due  religious  ceremo- 
nial. The  rage  for  psalm-singing  was  then  at  its  height 
in  England  :  psalmody  had  excluded  almost  every  other 
description  of  vocal  music  ;  and  it  is  even  said  that  great 
festivals  on  certain  occasions  were  preluded  by  no  less 
an  etfort  of  lungs  and  memory  than  the  entire  songs 
bequeathed  to  us  by  King  David  !  This  day,  however, 
Hugoline,  Edward's  Norman  chamberlain,  had  been 
pleased  to  abridge  the  length  of  the  prolix  grace  •,  and 
the  company  were  let  off,  to  Edward's  surprise  and  dis- 
pleasure, with  the  curt  and  unseemly  preparation  of  only 
nine  psalms  and  one  special  hymn,  in  honor  of  some 
obscure  saint  to  whom  the  day  was  dedicated.  This  per- 
formed, the  guests  resumed  their  seats,  Edward  murmur- 
ing an  apology  to  William  for  the  strange  omission  of 
his  chamberlain,  and  saying  thrice  to  himself,  "  Naught, 
naught,  — very  naught." 

The  mirth  languished  at  the  royal  table,  despite  some 
gay  efforts  from  Rolf,  and  some  hollow  attempts  at  light- 
hearted  cheerfulness  from  the  great  duke,  whose  eyes, 
wandering  down  the  table,  were  endeavoring  to  distin- 
guish Saxon  from  Norman,  and  count  how  many  of  the 
first  might  already  be  reckoned  in  the  train  of  his  friends. 
But  at  the  long  tables  below,  as  the  feast  thickened,  and 
ale,  mead,  pigment,  morat,  and  wine  circled  round,  the 
tongue  of  the  Saxon  was  loosed,  and  the  Norman  knight 
lost  somewhat  of  his  su])erb  gravity.  It  was  just  as  what 
a  Danish  poet  called  the  "  sun  of  the  night "  (in  other 


HAROLD.  51 

words,  the  fierce  warmth  of  the  wine)  had  attained  its 
meridian  glow,  that  some  slight  disturbance  at  the  doors 
<jf  the  hall,  without  which  waited  a  dense  crowd  of  the 
poor,  on  whom  the  fragments  of  the  feast  were  afterwards 
to  be  bestowed,  was  followed  by  the  entrance  of  two 
strangers,  for  whom  the  officers  appointed  to  marshal  the 
entertainment  made  room  at  the  foot  of  one  of  the  tables. 
Both  these  newcomers  were  clad  with  extreme  plainness  : 
one  in  a  dress,  though  not  quite  monastic,  that  of  an 
ecclesiastic  of  low  degree  ;  the  other,  in  a  long,  gray  man- 
tle and  loose  gonna,  the  train  of  which  last  was  tucked 
into  a  broad,  leathern  belt,  leaving  bare  the  leggings, 
which  showed  limbs  of  great  bulk  and  sinew,  and  Avhich 
were  stained  by  the  dust  and  mire  of  travel.  The  first- 
mentioned  was  slight  and  small  of  person  ;  the  last  was 
of  the  height  and  port  of  the  sons  of  Anak.  The  counte- 
nance of  neither  could  be  perceived,  for  both  had  let  fall 
the  hood,  worn  by  civilians  as  by  priests  out  of  doors, 
more  than  half-way  over  their  faces. 

A  murmur  of  great  surprise,  disdain,  and  resentment  at 
the  intrusion  of  strangers  so  attired,  circulated  round  the 
neighborhood  in  which  they  had  been  placed,  checked 
for  a  moment  by  a  certain  air  of  respect  which  the  officer 
had  shown  towards  both,  but  especially  the  taller  ;  but 
breaking  out  with  greater  vivacity  from  the  faint 
restraint,  as  the  tall  man  unceremoniously  stretched 
across  the  board,  drew  towards  himself  an  immense  flagon, 
which  (agreeably  to  the  custom  of  arranging  the  feast  in 
"  messes "  of  four)  had  been  specially  appropriated  to 
Ulf  the  Dane,  Godrith  the  Saxon,  and  two  young  Nor- 
man knights  akin  to  the  puissant  Lord  of  Grantmesnil, 
—  and  having  offered  it  to  his  comrade,  who  shook  his 
head,  drained  it  with  a  gusto  that  seemed  to  bespeak  him 
at  least  no  Norman,  and  wiped  his  lips  boorishly  with 
the  sleeve  of  his  huge  arm.     _ 


52  HAROLD. 

"  Dainty  sir,"  said  one  of  those  Norman  knights, 
"William  Mallet,  of  the  house  of  Mallet  de  Graville,^  as 
he  moved  as  far  from  the  gigantic  intruder  as  the  space 
on  the  settle  would  permit,  "  forgive  the  observation  that 
you  have  damaged  my  mantle,  you  have  grazed  my  foc^t, 
and  you  have  drunk  my  wine.  And  vouchsafe,  if  it  so 
please  you,  the  face  of  the  man  who  hath  done  this  triple 
wrong  to  William  Mallet  de  Graville." 

A  kind  of  laugh  —  for  laugh  absolute  it  was  not  —  rat- 
tled under  the  cowl  of  the  tall  stranger,  as  he  drew  it 
still  closer  over  his  face,  with  a  hand  that  might  have 
spanned  the  breast  of  his  interrogator,  and  he  made  a 
gesture  as  if  he  did  not  understand  the  question  addressed 
to  him. 

Therewith  the  Norman  knight,  bending  with  demure 
courtesy  across  the  board  to  Godrith  the  ISaxon,  said,  — 

"  Pardex^  but  this  fair  guest  and  seigneur  seemeth  to 
me,  noble  Godree  (whose  name  I  fear  my  lips  do  but 
rudely  enounce),  of  Saxon  line  and  language,  —  our 
Romance  tongue  he  knoweth  not.  Pray  you,  is  it  the 
Saxon  custom  to  enter  a  king's  hall  so  garbed,  and  drink 
a  knight's  wine  so  mutely  % " 

Godrith,  a  young  Saxon  of  considerable  rank,  but  one 
of  the  most  sedulous  of  the  imitators  of  the  foreign 
fashions,  colored  high  at  the  irony  in  the  knight's  speech  ; 
and  turning  rudely  to  the  huge  guest,  who  was  now  caus- 
ing immense  fragments  of  pastry  to  vanish  under  the 
cavernous  cowl,  he  said  in  his  native  tongue,  though  with 
a  lisp,  as  if  unfamiliar  to  him,  — 

^  See  note  to  Pluquet's  "  Romau  de  Rou,"  p.  28.5. 

N.  B.  —  Whenever  the  "  Roman  de  Rou  "  is  quoted  in  these 
pages,  it  is  from  the  excellent  edition  of  M.  Pkiquet. 

^  Pardex,  or  Pard€,  corresponding  to  the  modern  French  exple- 
tive, pa)  die. 


HAROLD,  63 

"  If  thou  beest  Saxon,  shame  us  not  with  thy  ceorHsh 
manners  ;  crave  pardon  of  this  Norman  thegn,  who  will 
doubtless  yield  to  thee  in  pity.  Uncover  thy  face  — 
and  —  " 

Here  the  Saxon's  rebuke  was  interrupted  ;  for  one  of 
the  servitors,  just  then  approaching  Godrith's  side  with 
a  spit,  elegantly  caparisoned  with  some  score  of  plump 
larks,  the  unmannerly  giant  stretched  out  his  arm  within 
an  inch  of  the  Saxon's  startled  nose,  and  possessed  him- 
self of  larks,  broche,  and  all.  He  drew  off  two,  which 
he  placed  on  his  friend's  platter  despite  all  dissuasive  ges- 
ticulations, and  deposited  the  rest  upon  his  own.  The 
young  banqueters  gazed  upon  the  spectacle  in  wrath  too 
full  for  words. 

At  last  spoke  Mallet  de  Graville,  with  an  envious  eye 
upon  the  larks,  — for  though  a  Norman  was  not  glut- 
tonous, he  was  epicurean  :  "  Certes,  and  foi  de  chevalier  ! 
a  man  must  go  into  strange  parts  if  he  wish  to  see  mon- 
sters ;  but  we  are  fortunate  people  "  (and  he  turned  to 
his  Norman  friend  Aynier,  Quen  ^  or  Count  D'Evereux), 
"  that  we  have  discovered  Polyphemus  without  going  so 
far  as  Ulysses  ; "  and,  pointing  to  the  hooded  giant,  he 
quoted  appropriately  enough,  — 

"  Monstrum,  horrendum,  informe,  ingens,  cui  lumen  ademptum." 

The  giant  continued  to  devour  his  larks  as  compla- 
cently as  the  ogre  to  whom  he  was  likened  might  have 
devoured  the  Greeks  in  his  cave.  But  his  fellow-intruder 
seemed  agitated  by  the  sound  of  the  Latin  ;  he  lifted  up 
his  head  suddenly,  and  showed  lips  glistening  with  white, 
even  teeth,  and  curved  into  an  approving  smile,  while  he 

1  Quen  or  rather  Quens,  —  synonymous  with  Count,  in  the  Nor- 
man Chronicles.  Earl  Godwin  is  .strangely  styled  by  Wace,  Queiia 
Gunne. 


54  HAROLD. 

said :    '*  Bene,  mi  fiU !  bene,  lepidissime,  poetce  verba,  in 
militis  ore,  non  indecora  sonant."  ^ 

The  young  Normau  stared  at  the  speaker,  and  replied, 
in  the  same  tone  of  grave  affectation,  "  Courteous  sir ! 
the  approbation  of  an  ecclesiastic  so  eminent  as  I  take  you 
to  be,  from  the  modesty  with  which  you  conceal  your 
greatness,  cannot  fail  to  draw  upon  me  the  envy  of  my 
English  friends,  Avho  are  accustomed  to  swear  in  verba 
viagistri,  only  for  verba  they  learnedly  substitute  vina." 

"  You  are  pleasant,  Sire  Mallet,"  said  Godrith,  redden- 
ing ;  "  but  I  know  well  that  Latin  is  only  fit  for  monks 
and  shavelings  ;  and  little  enow  even  they  have  to  boast 
of." 

The  Norman's  lip  curled  in  disdain.  "  Latin  !  —  O 
Godree,  bien  aime  I  —  Latin  is  the  tongue  of  Ciesars  and 
senators, /or^es  conquerors  and  prenx  chevaliers.  Knowest 
thou  not  that  Duke  William  the  dauntless  at  eight  years 
old  had  the  Comments  of  Julius  Caesar  by  heart? — and 
that  it  is  his  saying,  that  '  a  king  without  letters  is  a 
crowned  ass '  ?  ^  When  the  king  is  an  ass,  asinine  are  his 
subjects.  Wherefore  go  to  school,  speak  respectfully  of 
thy  betters,  the  monks  and  shavelings,  who  with  us  are 
often  brave  captains  and  sage  councillors,  and  learn  that 
a  full  head  makes  a  weighty  hand." 

"  Thy  name,  young  knight  ? "  said  the  ecclesiastic,  in 
Norman  French,  though  with  a  slight  foreign  accent. 

"  I  can  give  it  thee,"  said  the  giant,  speaking  aloud  for 
the  first  time,  in  the  same  language,  and  in  a  rough  voice, 
■which  a  quick  ear  might  have  detected  as  disguised,  — - 
"  I  can  describe  to  thee  name,  birth,  and  quality.     By 

1  "  Good,  good,  pleasant  son,  —  the  words  of  the  poet  sound 
gracefully  on  the  lips  of  the  knight." 

-  A  sentiment  variously  assigned  to  William  and  to  his  son 
Hcnrv  the  Beau  Clei-c. 


HAEOLD.  55 

name,  this  youth  is  Guillaume  Mallet,  sometimes  styled 
De  Graville,  because  our  Norman  gentilhommes,  forsooth, 
must  always  now  have  a  '  de  '  tacked  to  their  names  ; 
nevertheless  he  hath  no  other  right  to  the  seigneurie  of 
Graville,  which  appertains  to  the  head  of  his  house,  than 
may  he  conferred  by  an  old  tower  on  one  corner  of  the 
demesnes  so  designated,  with  lands  that  would  feed  one 
horse  and  two  villeins,  —  if  they  were  not  in  pawn  to  a 
Jew  for  moneys  to  buy  velvet  mantelines  and  a  chain  of 
gold.  By  birth,  he  comes  from  Mallet,^  a  bold  I^or- 
wegian  in  the  fleet  of  Rou  the  Sea-king  ;  his  mother  was 
a  Frank  woman,  from  whom  he  inherits  his  best  posses- 
sions, —  videlicet,  a  shrewd  wit  and  a  railing  tongue. 
His  qualities  are  abstinence,  for  he  eateth  nowhere  save 
at  the  cost  of  another, — some  Latin,  for  he  was  meant 
for  a  monk,  because  he  seemed  too  slight  of  frame  for  a 
warrior  ;  some  courage,  for,  in  spite  of  his  frame,  he  slew 
three  Burgundians  with  his  own  hand  ;  and  Duke  William, 
among  other  foolish  acts,  spoilt  a  friar  sans  tache,  by  making 
a  knight  sans  terre  ;  and  for  the  rest  - — ■  " 

"  And  for  the  rest,"  interrupted  the  Sire  de  Graville, 
turning  white  with  wrath,  but  speaking  in  a  low  repressed 
voice,  "  were  it  not  that  Duke  William  sat  yonder,  thou 
shouldst  have  six  inches  of  cold  steel  in  thy  huge  carcase 
to  digest  thy  stolen  dinner,  and  silence  thy  unmannerly 
tongue  —  " 

"  For  the  rest,"  continued  the  giant  indifferently,  and 
as  if  he  had  not  heard  the  interruption,  —  "  for  the  rest, 
he  only  resembles  Achilles,  in  being  impiger,  iracundus. 
Big  men  can  quote  Latin  as  well  as  little  ones,  Messire 
Mallet  the  hean  clerc  !  " 

Mallet's  hand  was  on  his  dagger,  and  his  eye  dilated 
like  that  of  tlie  panther  before  he  springs  ;  but  fortu- 
1  Mallet  is  a  genuine  Scandinavian  name  to  this  day. 


56  HAROLD. 

nately,  at  that  moment,  the  deep,  sonorous  voice  of 
William,  accustomed  to  send  its  sounds  down  the  ranks 
of  an  army,  rolled  clear  through  the  assemblage,  though 
pitched  little  above  its  ordinary  key  :  — 

"  Fair  is  your  feast,  and  bright  your  wine,  Sir  King 
and  brother  mine !  But  I  miss  here  what  king  and 
knight  hold  as  the  salt  of  the  feast  and  the  perfume  to 
the  wine,  —  the  lay  of  the  minstrel.  Beshrew  me,  but 
both  Saxon  and  iS^orman  are  of  kindred  stock,  and  love 
to  hear  in  hall  and  bower  the  deeds  of  their  northern 
fatliers.  Crave  I  therefore  from  your  gleemen,  or  har- 
pers, some  song  of  the  olden  time  !  " 

A  murmur  of  applause  went  through  the  Norman  part 
of  the  assembly  !  the  Saxons  looked  i;p ;  and  some  of  the 
more  practised  courtiers  sighed  wearily,  for  they  knew 
well  what  ditties  alone  were  in  favor  with  the  saintly 
Edward. 

The  low  voice  of  the  king  in  reply  was  not  heard,  but 
those  habituated  to  read  liis  countenance  in  its  very  faint 
varieties  of  expression  might  have  seen  that  it  conveyed 
reproof ;  and  its  purport  soon  became  practically  known, 
when  a  lugul^rious  prelude  was  heard  from  a  quarter  of 
the  hall  in  which  sat  certain  ghost-like  musicians  in  white 
robes,  —  white  as  winding-sheets  ;  and  forthwith  a  dolo- 
rous and  dirgelike  voice  chanted  a  long  and  most  tedious 
recital  of  the  miracles  and  martyrdom  of  some  early  saint. 
So  monotonous  was  the  chant,  that  its  effects  soon  became 
visible  in  a  general  drowsiness  ;  and  when  Edward,  who 
alone  listened  with  attentive  delight,  turned  towards  the 
close  to  gather  sympathizing  admiration  from  his  distin- 
guished guests,  he  saw  his  nei)hew  yawning  as  if  his  jaw 
were  dislocated,  the  Bishop  of  Bayeux,  with  his  well- 
ringed  fingers  interlaced  and  resting  on  his  stomach,  fast 
asleep ;  FiLzosborne's  half-shaven  head  balancing  to  and 


HAROLD.  57 

fro  with  many  an  uneasy  start ;  and  "William,  wide 
awake,  indeed,  but  with  eyes  fixed  on  vacant  space,  and 
his  soul  far  away  from  the  gridiron  to  which  (all  other 
saints  he  praised  !)  the  saint  of  the  ballad  had  at  last 
happily  arrived. 

"  A  comforting  and  salutary  recital,  Count  William," 
said  the  king. 

The  duke  started  from  his  reverie,  and  bowed  his  head  : 
then  said  rather  abruptly,  "  Is  not  yon  blazon  that  of 
King  Alfred  ? " 

"  Yea.     Wherefore  1 " 

"  Hem  !  Matilda  of  Flanders  is  in  direct  descent  from 
Alfred  :  it  is  a  name  and  a  line  the  Saxons  yet  honor ! " 

"  Surely,  yes ;  Alfred  was  a  great  man,  and  reformed 
the  Psalmster,"  replied  Edward. 

The  dirge  ceased,  but  so  benumbing  had  been  its  effect, 
that  the  torpor  it  created  did  not  subside  with  the  cause. 
There  was  a  dead  and  funereal  silence  throughout  the 
spacious  hall,  when  suddenly,  loudly,  mightily,  as  tiie 
blast  of  the  trumpet  upon  the  hush  of  the  grave,  rose  a 
single  voice.  All  started  —  all  turned  —  all  looked  to 
one  direction  ;  and  they  saw  that  the  great  voice  pealed 
from  the  farthest  end  of  the  hall.  From  under  his  gown 
the  gigantic  stranger  had  drawn  a  small  three-stringed 
instrument, — somewhat  resembling  the  modern  lute, — 
and  thus  he  sang  :  — 

THE   BALLAD   OF   ROU.i 
I. 

From  Blois  to  Senlis,  wave  by  wave,  rolled  on  the  Norman 

flood, 
Ana  frank  on  Frank  went  drifting  down  the  weltering  tide  of 

blood ; 

1  J^on — the  name  gl^•en  hy  the  French  to  Rollo,  or  Rolf-gauger, 
tlie  founder  of  the  Norman  settlement. 


58  HAROLD. 

There  was  not  left  in  all  the  land  a  castle  wall  to  fire, 
And  not  a  wife  but  wailed  a  lord,  a  child  but  mourned  a  sire. 
To  C!harles  the  king,  the  mitred  monks,  the  mailed  barons  flew, 
While,  shaking  earth,  behind  them  strode  the  thunder  march 
of  Ron. 

II. 

"  O  king,"  then  cried  those  barons  bold,  "  in  vain  are  mace 

and  mail, 
We  fall  before  the  Norman  axe  as  corn  before  the  hail." 
"  And  vainly,"  cried  the  pious  monks,  "  by  Mary's  shrine  we 

kneel. 
For  prayers,  like  arrows,  glance  aside  against  the  Norman 

steel." 
The   barons  groaned,   the   shavelings  wept,   while   near  and 

nearer  drew. 
As  death-birds  round  their  scented  feast,  the  raven  flags  of 

Rou. 

III. 

Then  said  King  Charles,  "  Where  thousands  fail,  what  king 

can  stand  alone  ? 
The  strength  of  kings  is  in  the  men  that  gather  round  the 

throne. 
When  war  dismays  my  barons  bold,  't  is  time  for  war  to  cease; 
When  Heaven  forsakes  my  pious  monks,  the  will  of  Heaven  is 

peace. 
Go  forth,  my  monks,  with  mass  and  rood,  the  Norman  camp 

unto. 
And  to  the  fold,  with  shepherd  crook,  entice  this  grisly  Rou. 


IV. 

"  I  '11  give  him  all  the  ocean  coast  from  Michael  Mount  to 

Eure, 
And  Gille,  my  child,  shall  be  his  bride,  to  bind  him  fast  and 

sure ; 


HAROLD.  59 

Let  liiin  but  kiss  the  Christian  cross,  and  sheathe  the  heathen 

sword, 
And  hold  the  lands  I  cannot  keep,  a  fief  from  Charles  his 

lord." 
Forth  went  the  pastors  of  the  Cburcli,  the  shepherd's  work  to  do. 
And  wrap  the  golden  fleece  around  the  tiger  loins  of  Rou. 

V. 

Psalm-chanting  came  the  shaven  monks  within  the  camp  of 

dread ; 
Amidst  his  warriors  Norman  Rou  stood  taller  by  the  head. 
Out  spoke  the  Frank  archbishop  then,  a  priest  devout  and 

sage, 
•'  When  peace  and  plenty  wait  thy  word,  what  need  of  war  and 

rage  ? 
Why  waste  a  land  as  fair  as  aught  beneath  the  arch  of  blue. 
Which  might  be  thine  to  sow  and  reap  ?  —  Thus  saith  the  king 

to  Rou  : 

VI. 

•' '  I  '11  give  thee  all  the  ocean  coast  from  Michael  Mount  to 
Eure, 

And  Gille,  my  fairest  child,  as  bride,  to  bind  thee  fast  and 
sure  ; 

If  thou  but  kneel  to  Christ  our  God,  and  sheathe  thy  paynim 
sword, 

And  hold  thy  land,  the  Church's  son,  a  fief  from  Charles  thy 
lord.'  " 

The  Norman  on  his  warriors  looked, —  to  counsel  they  with- 
drew ; 

The  saints  took  pity  on  the  Franks,  and  moved  the  soul  of  Rou. 

VII. 

So  back  he  strode  and  thus  he  spoke  to  that  archbishop  meek  : 
"  I  take  the  land  thy  king  bestows  from  Eure  to  Michael-peak, 
I  take  the  maid,  or  foul  or  fair,  a  bargain  with  the  coast. 
And  for  thy  creed,  a  sea-king's  gods  are  those  that  give  the 

most. 
So  hie  thee  back,  and  tell  thy  chief  to  make  his  profiler  true, 
And  he  shall  finrl  a  docile  son,  and  ye  a  saint  in  Rou." 


60  IIAKOLD. 

VIII. 
So  o'er  the  border  stream  of  Epte  came  Rou  the  Norman, 

where, 
Begirt  with  barons,  sat  the  king,  enthroned  at  green  St.  Clair; 
He  placed  his  hand  in  Charles's  hand,  —  loud  shouted  all  the 

throng, 
But  tears  were  in  King  Charles's  eyes,  —  the  grip  of  Rou  was 

strong. 
"  Now  kiss  the  foot,"  the  bishop  said,  "  that  homage  still  is 

due ;  " 
Then  dark  the  frown  and  stern  the  smile  of  that  grim  convert, 

Rou. 

IX. 

He  takes  the  foot,  as  if  the  foot  to  slavish  lips  to  bring ; 

The  Normans  scowl  ;  he  tilts  the  throne,  and  backward  falls 

the  king. 
Loud  laugh  the  joyous  Norman  men,  —  pale  stare  the  Franks 

aghast  ; 
And  Rou  lifts  up  his  head  as  from  the  wind  springs  up  the 

mast  : 
"  I  said  I  would  adore  a  God,  but  not  a  mortal  too  ; 
The  foot  that  fled  before  a  foe  let  cowards  kiss!  "  said  Rou. 

No  words  can  express  the  excitement  which  this  rough 
minstrelsy  —  marred  as  it  is  by  our  poor  translation  from 
tlie  Romance  tongue  in  which  it  was  chanted  —  produced 
amongst  the  Norman  guests ;  less  perhaps,  indeed,  the 
song  itself,  than  the  recognition  of  the  minstrel ;  and  as 
he  closed,  from  more  than  a  liundred  voices  came  the 
loud  murmur,  only  subdued  from  a  shout  by  the  royal 
presence,  "  Taillefer,  our  Norman  Taillefer  !  " 

"  By  our  joint  saint,  Peter,  my  cousin  the  king," 
exclaimed  William,  after  a  frank,  cordial  laugh  ;  "  well  I 
wot,  no  tongue  less  free  than  my  warrior  minstrel's  could 
have  so  shocked  our  ears.  Excuse  his  bold  theme  for  the 
sake  of  his  bold  heart,  I  pray  thee  ;  and  since  I  know 


HAROLD.  61 

well "  (here  the  duke's  face  grew  grave  and  anxious) 
"  that  nouglit  save  urgent  and  weighty  news  from  ni}- 
stormy  realm  could  have  brought  over  this  rhyming 
petrel,  permit  the  officer  behind  me  to  lead  hither  a  bird, 
I  fear,  of  omen  as  well  as  of  song." 

"  Whatever  pleases  thee,  pleases  me,"  said  Edward, 
dryly  ;  and  he  gave  the  order  to  the  attendant.  In  a  few 
moments,  up  the  space  in  the  hall,  between  eitlier  table, 
came  the  large  stride  of  the  famous  minstrel,  preceded  by 
the  officer,  and  followed  by  the  ecclesiastic.  The  hoods 
of  both  were  now  thrown  back,  and  discovered  counte- 
nances in  strange  contrast,  but  each  equally  worthy  of 
the  attention  it  provoked.  The  face  of  the  minstrel  was 
open  and  sunny  as  the  day,  and  that  of  the  priest  dark 
and  close  as  night.  Thick  curls  of  deep  auburn  (the 
most  common  color  for  the  locks  of  the  Xorman)  wreathed 
in  careless  disorder  round  Taillefer's  massive,  unwriukled 
brow.  His  eye,  of  light  hazel,  was  bold  and  joyous  ; 
mirth,  though  sarcastic  and  sly,  mantled  round  his  lips. 
His  whole  presence  was  at  once  engaging  and  heroic. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  priest's  cheek  was  dark  and 
sallow  ;  his  features  singularly  delicate  and  refined  ;  his 
forehead  high,  but  somewhat  narrow,  and  crossed  with 
lines  of  thought ;  his  mien  composed,  modest,  but  not 
without  calm  self-confidence.  Amongst  that  assembly  of 
soldiers,  noiseless,  self-collected,  and  conscious  of  his  sur- 
passing power  over  swords  and  mail,  moved  the  Scholar. 

William's  keen  eye  rested  on  the  priest  with  some  sur- 
prise, not  unmixed  with  pride  and  ire  ;  but  first  address- 
ing Taillefer,  who  now  gained  the  foot  of  the  dais,  he 
said,  with  a  familiarity  almost  fond,  — 

"  Now,  by  'r  lady,  if  thou  bringest  not  ill  news,  thy 
gay  face,  man,  is  pleasanter  to  mine  eyes  than  thy  rough 
song    to    my    ears.       Kneel,    Taillefer,    kneel     to    King 


62  HAROLD. 

Edward,  and  with  more  address,  rogue,  than  our  unlucky 
countryman  to  King  Charles." 

But  Edward,  as  ill-lilcing  the  form  of  the  giant  as  the 
subject  of  his  lay,  said,  pushing  back  his  seat  as  far  as  he 
could,  — 

"iS^ay,  nay,  we  excuse  thee,  we  excuse  thee,  tall  man." 
Nevertheless,  the  minstrel  still  knelt,  and  so,  with  a  look 
of  profound  humility,  did  the  priest.  Then  both  slowly 
rose,  and  at  a  sign  from  the  duke  passed  to  the  other  side 
of  the  table,  standing  behind  Fitzosborne's  chair. 

"  Clerk,"  said  William,  eying  deliberately  the  sallow 
face  of  the  ecclesiastic,  "  I  know  thee  of  old  ;  and  if  the 
Church  have  sent  me  an  envoy  />er  la  resplendar  De,  it 
should  have  sent  me  at  least  an  abbot." 

^^  Hein,  Heinf"  said  Taillefer,  bluntly  ;  "  vex  not  my 
hon  camarade,  Count  of  the  Normans.  Gramercy,  thou 
wilt  welcome  him,  peradventure,  better  than  me  ;  for  the 
singer  tells  but  of  discord,  and  the  sage  may  restore  the 
harmony." 

"  Ha  ! "  said  the  duke  ;  and  the  frown  fell  so  dark  over 
his  eyes  that  the  last  seemed  only  visible  by  two  sparks 
of  fire.  "I  guess  my  proud  Vavasours  are  mutinous. 
Retire,  thou  and  thy  comrade.  Await  me  in  my  chamber. 
The  feast  shall  not  flag  in  London  because  the  wind  blows 
a  gale  in  Rouen." 

The  two  envoys,  since  so  they  seemed,  bowed  in  silence 
and  withdrew. 

"  Nought  of  ill-tidings,  I  trust,"  said  Edward,  who  had 
not  listened  to  the  whispered  communications  that  had 
passed  between  the  duke  and  his  subjects.  "  No  schism 
in  thy  church  1  The  clerk  seemed  a  peaceful  man,  and 
a  humble." 

"  An  there  were  schism  in  my  church,"  said  the  fiery 
duke,  "  my  brother  of  Bayeux  would  settle  it  by  argu- 
ments as  close  as  the  gap  between  cord  and  throttle." 


HAHOLD.  63 

"Ah  !  til  on  art,  doubtless,  well  read  in  the  canons,  holy 
Odo  !  "  said  the  king,  turning  to  the  bishop  with  more 
respect  than  he  had  yet  evinced  towards  that  gentle 
prelate. 

"Canons,  yes,  seigne— ,  7  -^-"-  +,h-.n  up  myself  for  my 
flock,  conformably  with  such  niterpretations  of  the  Roman 
Church  as  suit  best  witli  the  jS^orman  ro'dm  :  and  wo*^  to 
deacon,    motm,    or    aoboo,    who    chooses    to    misconstrue 

them  ! ''  ^ 

The  bishop  looked  so  truculent  and  menacing,  while 
his  fancy  thus  conjured  up  the  possibility  of  heretical 
dissent,  that  Edward  shrank  from  him  as  he  had  done 
from  Taillefer  ;  and  in  a  few  minutes  after,  on  excliange 
of  signals  between  himself  and  t]ie  duke,  who,  impatient 
to  escape,  was  too  stately  to  testify  that  desire,  the 
retirement  of  the  royal  party  broke  up  the  banquet  ; 
save,  indeed,  that  a  few  of  the  elder  Saxons  and  more 
incorrigible  Danes  still  steadily  kept  their  seats,  and  were 
finally  dislodged  from  their  later  settlements  on  the  stone 
floors,  to  find  themselves,  at  dawn,  carefully  propped  in  a 
row  against  the  outer  walls  of  the  palace,  with  their 
patient  attendants,  holding  links,  and  gazing  on  their 
masters  with  stolid  envy,  if  not  of  the  repose,  at  least  of 
the  drugs  that  had  caused  it. 

1  Pions  severity  to  the  heterodox  was  a  Norman  virtue. 
William  of  Poictiers  says  of  William,  "  One  knows  with  what  zeal 
he  pursued  and  exterminated  those  who  thought  differently ;  " 
that  is,  on  transubstantiation.  But  the  wise  Norman,  while  flatter- 
ing the  tastes  or  ihe  ivoniitn  pontiff  in  such  matters,  took  special 
care  to  preserve  the  independence  of  his  church  from  any  undue 
dictatio'i. 


64  IlAJiOLD. 


CHAPTER  IT. 

"  And  now,"  said  Williaui,  reclining  on  a  long  and  narrow 
couch,  witn  raised  carved-work  all  round  it  like  a  box 
(the  approved  fashion  of  a  bed  in  those  days),  "now.  Sire 
Taillefer,  —  thy  news." 

There  were  then  in  the  duke's  chamber  the  Count 
Fitzosborne,  Lord  of  Breteuil,  surnaiued  "  the  Proud 
Spirit,"  —  who,  with  great  dignity,  was  holding  before 
the  brazier  the  ample  tunic  of  linen  (called  dormitorimn 
in  the  Latin  of  tliat  time,  and  night-rail  in  the  Saxon 
tongue),  in  which  his  lord  was  to  robe  his  formidable 
limbs  for  repose,-^  —  Taillefer,  who  stood  erect  before  the 
duke  as  a  Roman  sentry  at  his  post,  and  the  ecclesiastic, 
a  little  apart,  with  arms  gathered  under  his  gown,  and  his 
bright  dark  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground. 

"  Higli  and  puissant,  my  liege,"  then  said  Taillefer, 
gravely,  and  with  a  shade  of  sympathy  on  his  large  face, 
"  my  news  is  such  as  is  best  told  briefly  :  Bunaz,  Count 
d'  Eu  and  descendant  of  Richard  Sanspeur,  hath  raised 
the  standard  of  revolt." 

"  Go  on,"  said  the  duke,  clinching  his  hand. 

*'  Henry,  King  of  the  French,  is  treating  with  the  rebel, 
and  stirring  up  mutiny  in  thy  realm,  and  pr-^tenders  to 
thy  throne." 

"  Ha  !  "  said  the  duke,  and  his  lip  quivered  ;  "  this  is 
not  all?" 

1  A  few  generations  later  this  comfortable  and  decent  fashion 
of  night-gear  was  abandoned ;  and  our  forefathers,  Saxon  and 
Norman,  went  to  bed  In  purls  nnturalihus,  like  the  Laplanders. 


HAKOLD.  65 

"  No,  my  liege  !  and  the  worst  is  to  come.  Thy  uncle 
Matager,  knowing  that  thy  heart  is  bent  on  thy  speedy 
nuptials  with  the  high  and  noble  damsel,  Matilda  of 
Flanders,  has  broken  out  again  in  thine  absence,  —  is 
preaching  against  thee  in  hall  and  from  pulpit.  He  de- 
clares that  such  espousals  are  incestuous,  both  as  within 
the  forbidden  degrees,  and  inasmuch  as  Adele,  the  lady's 
mother,  was  betrothed  to  thine  uncle  Kichard  ;  and 
Manger  menaces  excommunication  if  my  liege  pursues 
his  suit !  ^  So  troubled  is  the  realm,  that  I,  waiting  not 
for  debate  in  council,  and  fearing  sinister  ambassage  if 
I  did  so,  took  ship  from  thy  port  of  Cherburg,  and  have 
not  flagged  rein,  and  scarce  broken  bread,  till  I  could  .^^ay 
to  the  heir  of  Kolf  the  Founder,'  Save  thy  realm  from  the 
men  of  mail,  and  thy  bride  from  the  knaves  in  serge.' " 

"  Ho,  ho  !  "  cried  William  ;  then  bursting  forth  in  full 
wrath  as  he  sprang  from  the  couch,  "  Hearest  thou  this, 
Lord  Seneschal  1  Seven  years,  the  probation  of  the 
patriarch,  have  I  wooed  and  waited ;  and  lo,  in  the 
seventh  does  a  proud  priest  say  to  me,  '  Wrench  the  love 
from  thy  heart-strings  ! '  —  excommunicate  me  —  me  — 
William,  the  son  of  Robert  the  Devil  !  Ha  !  by  God's 
splendor,  Mauger  shall  live  to  wish  the  father  stood,  in 
the  foul  fiend's  true  likeness,  by  his  side,  rather  than 
brave  the  bent  brow  of  the  son  ! " 

1  Most  of  the  chroniclers  merely  state  the  parentage  within  the 
forbidden  degrees  as  the  obstacle  to  William's  marriage  witli 
Matilda ;  bnt  the  betrothal  or  rather  unptials  of  her  mother  Adele 
with  Richard  III.  (though  never  consummated)  appears  to  have 
been  the  true  canonical  objection.  —  See  note  to  Wace,  p.  27. 
Nevertheless,  Matilda's  mother  Adele  stood  in  the  relation  of  aunt 
to  William,  as  widow  of  his  father's  eUler  brother,  "  an  affinity,"  as 
is  observea  by  a  writer  in  the  ArrJuE'ilorjia,  "  quite  near  enough 
to  account  for,  if  not  to  justify,  the  interference  of  the  Church."  — 
Arrli.  vol.  x.xxii.  p.  109. 

VOL.  I.  5 


66  HAROLD. 

"Dread  my  lord,"  said  Fitzosborne,  desisting  from  his 
employ,  and  rising  to  his  feet ;  "  thou  knowest  that  I  am 
thy  true  friend  and  leal  knight ;  thou  knowest  how  I 
have  aided  thee  in  this  marriage  with  the  lady  of  Flan- 
ders, and  how  gravely  I  think  that  what  pleases  thy  fancy 
will  guard  thy  realm  ;  —  but  rather  than  brave  the  order 
of  the.  Church  and  the  ban  of  the  Pope,  I  would  see  thee 
wed  to  the  poorest  virgin  in  Normandy." 

William,  who  had  Ijeen  pacing  the  room  like  an  en- 
raged lion  in  his  den,  halted  in  amaze  at  this  bold  speech. 

"This  from  thee,  William  Fitzosborne!  —  from  thee! 
I  tell  thee,  that  if  all  the  priests  in  Christendom,  and  all 
the  barons  in  France,  stood  l^etween  me  and  my  bride,  I 
would  hew  my  way  through  the  midst.  Foes  invade  my 
realm,  —  let  them  ;  princes  conspire  against  me,  —  I 
smile  in  scorn  ;  subjects  mutiny,  —  this  strong  hand  can 
punish,  or  this  large  heart  can  forgive.  All  these  are  the 
dangers  which  he  who  goveriis  men  should  prepare  to 
meet ;  but  man  has  a  right  to  his  love,  as  the  stag  to  his 
hind.  And  he  who  wrongs  me  here,  is  foe  and  traitor 
to  me,  not  as  Norman  duke,  but  as  human  being.  Look 
to  it,  —  thou  and  thy  proud  barons,  look  to  it !  " 

"  Proud  may  thy  barons  be,"  said  Fitzosborne,  redden- 
ing, and  with  a  brow  that  quailed  not  before  his  lord's  ; 
"for  they  are  the  sons  of  those  who  carved  out  the  realm 
of  the  Norman,  and  owned  in  Rou  but  the  feudal  chief 
of  free  warriors  ;  vassals  are  not  villeins.  And  tliat  which 
we  hold  our  duty,  —  whether  to  Church  or  chief,  —  that, 
Duke  William,  tliy  proud  barons  will  doubtless  do ;  nor 
less,  believe  me,  for  threats  which,  braved  in  discharge  of 
duty  and  defence  of  freedom,  we  hold  as  air." 

The  duke  gazed  on  his  haughty  subject  with  an  eye  in 
wdiich  a  meaner  spirit  might  have  seen  its  doom.  The 
veins  in  his  broad  temples  swelled  like  cords,  and  a  li-'-'.t 


HAKOLD.  67 

foam  gathereii  round  his  quivering  lips.  But  fiery  and 
fearless  as  William  was,  not  less  was  he  sagacious  and 
profound.  In  that  one  man  he  saw  the  representative  of 
that  superb  and  matchless  chivalry,  — that  race  of  races, 
—  those  men  of  men,  in  whom  tlie  brave  acknowlecl,tj;e 
the  highest  example  of  valiant  deeds,  and  the  free  the 
manliest  assertion  of  noble  thoughts,  ^  since  the  day  when 
the  last  Athenian  covered  his  liead  with  his  mantle,  and 
mutely  died ;  and  far  from  being  the  most  stubborn 
against  his  will,  it  was  to  Fitzosborne's  paramount 
influence  with  the  council  that  he  had  often  owed  their 
submission  to  his  wishes,  and  their  contributions  to  his 
wars.  In  the  very  tempest  of  his  wrath,  he  felt  that  the 
blow  he  longed  to  strike  on  that  bold  head  would  shiver 
his  ducal  throne  to  the  dust.  He  felt,  too,  that  awful 
indeed  was  that  power  of  the  Church  which  could  thus 
turn  against  him  the  heart  of  his  truest  knight :  and  he 
began  (for  with  all  his  outward  frankness  his  temper  was 
suspicious)  to  wrong  the  great-souled  noble  by  the  thought 
that  he  might  already  be  won  over  by  the  enemies  whom 
Mauger  had  arrayed  against  his  nuptials.  Therefore,  with 
one  of  those  rare  and  mighty  efforts  of  that  dissimulation 

^  It  might  be  easy  to  show,  were  this  the  place,  that  though  the 
Saxons  never  lost  their  love  of  liberty,  yet  that  the  victories  which 
gradually  regained  the  liberty  from  tlie  grip  of  the  Auglo-Noriiiau 
kings,  were  achieved  by  the  Anglo-Norman  aristocracy.  And  even 
to  tliis  day,  the  few  rare  descendants  of  that  race  (whatever  their 
political  faction)  will  generally  exhibit  that  impatience  of  despotic 
influence,  and  that  disdain  of  corruption,  which  characterize  the 
homely  bonders  of  Norway,  in  whom  we  may  still  recognize  the 
sturdy  likeness  of  their  fathers;  wliile  it  also  remarkable  tliat 
the  modern  inhabitants  of  those  portions  of  the  kingdom  originally 
peopled  by  their  kindred  Danes,  are,  irrespective  of  mere  party 
divisions,  noted  for  their  intolerance  of  all  oppression,  and  their 
resolute  independence  of  character  :  to  wit,  Yorkshire,  Norfolk, 
Cumberland,  and  large  districts  in  the  Scottish  lowlands. 


68  HAROLD. 

which  debased  his  character,  but  acliieved  his  fortunes, 
he  cleared  his  brow  of  its  dark  cloud,  and  said  in  a  low 
voice,  that  was  not  without  its  pathos,  — 

"  Had  an  angel  from  heaven  forewarned  me  that 
William  Fitzosborne  would  speak  thus  to  his  kinsman 
and  brother  in  arms,  in  the  hour  of  need  and  the  agony  of 
passion,  I  would  have  disbelieved  him.     Let  it  pass  —  " 

But  ere  the  last  word  was  out  of  his  lips,  Fitzosborne 
had  fallen  on  his  knees  before  the  duke,  and,  clasping  his 
hand,  exclaimed,  while  the  tears  rolled  down  his  swarthy 
cheek,  "  Pardon,  pardon,  my  liege  !  when  thou  speakest 
thus,  my  heart  melts.  What  thou  wiliest,  that  will  I  ! 
Church  or  Pope,  no  matter.  Send  me  to  Flanders  ;  I  will 
bring  back  thy  bride." 

The  slight  smile  that  curved  William's  lip,  showed  that 
he  was  scarce  worthy  of  that  sublime  weakness  in  his 
friend.  But  he  cordially  pressed  the  hand  that  grasped 
his  own,  and  said,  "  Rise  ;  thus  should  brother  speak  to 
brother."  Then  —  for  his  wrath  was  only  concealed,  not 
stifled,  and  yearned  for  its  vent  —  his  e^'^e  fell  upon  the 
delicate  and  thouglitful  face  of  the  priest,  who  had 
watched  this  short  and  stormy  conference  in  profound 
silence,  despite  Taillefer's  whispers  to  him  to  interrupt 
the  dispute.  "  So,  priest,"  he  said,  "  I  remember  me  that 
when  Mauser  before  let  loose  his  rebellious  tongue,  thou 
didst  lend  thy  pedant  learning  to  eke  out  his  brainless 
treason.  Methought  that  I  then  banished  thee  my 
realm?" 

"  i^ot  so.  Count  and  Seigneur,"  answered  the  eccle- 
siastic, with  a  grave  but  arch  smile  on  his  lip;  "let  nie 
remind  thee,  that  to  speed  me  back  to  my  native  laud 
thou  didst  graciously  send  me  a  horse,  halting  on  three 
legs  and  all  lame  on  the  fourth.  Thus  mounted,  I  met 
thee  on  my  road.     I  saluted  thee  ;  so  did  the  beast,  for 


HAROLD.  69 

his  head  well-nigh  touched  the  ground.  "Whereon  I  did 
ask  thee,  in  a  Latin  play  of  words,  to  give  me  at  least  a 
quadruped,  not  a  tripod,  for  my  journey.^  Gracious  even 
in  ire,  and  with  relenting  laugh,  was  thine  answer.  My 
liege,  thy  words  implied  banishment,  —  thy  laughter, 
pardon.     So  I  stayed." 

Despite  his  wrath,  William  could  scarcely  repress  a 
smile  ;  but,  recollecting  himself,  he  rei>lied,  more  gravely, 
"  Peace  with  this  levity,  priest.  Doubtless  thou  art  the 
envoy  from  this  scrupulous  Manger,  or  some  other  of  my 
gentle  clergy  ;  and  thou  comest,  as  doubtless,  with  soft 
words  and  whining  homilies.  It  is  in  vain.  I  liold  the 
Church  in  holy  reverence  ;  the  pontiff  knows  it.  But 
Matilda  of  Flanders  I  have  wooed ;  and  Matilda  of 
Flanders  shall  sit  by  my  side  in  the  halls  of  Rouen,  or  on 
the  deck  of  my  war-ship,  till  it  anchors  on  a  land  worthy 
to  yield  a  new  domain  to  the  son  of  the  Sea-king." 

"  In  the  halls  of  Rouen  —  and  it  may  be  on  the  throne 
of  England  —  shall  Matilda  reign  by  the  side  of  William," 
said  the  priest,  in  a  clear,  low,  and  empliatic  voice  ;  "  and 
it  was  to  tell  my  lord  the  duke  that  I  repent  me  of  my 
first  unconsidered  obeisance  to  Mauger  as  my  spiritual 
superior ;  that  since  then  I  have  myself  examined  canon 
and  precedent ;  and  though  the  letter  of  the  law  be 
against  thy  spousals,  it  comes  precisely  under  the  category 
of  those  alliances  to  which  the  fathers  of  the  Church 
accord  dispensation  :  —  it  is  to  tell  thee  this,  that  I,  plain 
Doctor  of  Laws  and  priest  of  Pavia,  have  crossed  the 
seas." 

"  Ha  Ron  !  —  Ha  Rou !  "  cried  Taillefer,  with  his  usual 

1  Ex  pervetiisto  codice,  MS.  Chron.  Bee.  in  Vif.  Lanfrnnr,  quoted 
in  the  Archceologia,  vol.  xxxii.  p.  109.  Tlie  joke,  which  is  very 
poor,  seems  to  have  turned  upon  pede  aud  quadrupede  \  it  is  a 
little  altered  iu  the  te.\t. 


70  HAROLD. 

hluffness,  and   laughing  with   great  glee,   "why  wouldst 
thou   not  listen  to  me,  monseigiieur  1  " 

"  If  tliou  deceivest  me  not,"  said  William,  in  surprise, 
"and  thou  canst  make  good  thy  words,  no  prelate  in 
Keustria,  save  Odo  of  Bayeux,  shall  lift  his  head  high  as 
thine."  And  here  William,  deeply  versed  in  the  science 
of  men,  bent  his  eyes  keenly  upon  the  unchanging  and 
earnest  face  of  the  speaker.  "Ah,"  he  burst  out,  as  if 
satisfied  with  the  survey,  "and  my  mind  tells  me  that 
thou  speakest  not  thus  boldly  and  calmly  without  ground 
sufficient.  Man,  I  like  thee.  Thy  name]  I  forget 
it." 

"  Lanfranc  of  Pavia,  please  yon,  my  lord  ;  called  some- 
times, '  Lanfranc  the  Scholar '  in  thy  cloister  of  Bee. 
ISTor  misdeem  me,  tliat  I,  humble,  unmitred  priest,  should 
be  thus  bold.  In  birth  I  am  noble,  and  my  kindred  stand 
near  to  the  grace  of  our  ghostly  pontiff;  to  the  pontiff  I 
myself  am  not  unknown.  Did  I  desire  honors,  in  Italy 
I  might  seek  them  ;  it  is  not  so.  I  crave  no  guerdon  for 
the  service  I  proffer  ;  none  but  this,  —  leisure  and  books 
in  the  Convent  of  Bee." 

"  Sit  down,  —  nay,  sit,  man,"  said  William,  greatly 
interested,  but  still  suspicious.  "  One  riddle  only  I  ask 
thee  to  solve  before  I  give  thee  all  my  trust,  and  place 
my  very  heart  in  thy  hands.  Why,  if  thou  desirest  not 
rewards,  shouldst  thou  thus  care  to  serve  me,  —  thou,  a 
foreigner  1  " 

A  light,  brilliant  and  calm,  shone  in  the  eyes  of  the 
scholar,  and  a  blush  spread  over  his  pale  cheeks. 

"  My  Lord  Prince,  .1  will  answer  in  plain  words.  But 
first  permit  me  to  be  the  questioner." 

The  priest  turned  towards  Fitzosborne,  who  had  seated 
himself  on  a  stool  at  William's  feet,  and,  leaning  his  chin 
on  his  hand,  listened  to  the  ecclesiastic,  not  more  with 


HAROLD.  71 

devotion  to  his  calling,  than  wonder  at  the  influence  one 
po  obscure  was  irresistibly  gaining  over  his  own  martial 
spirit,  and  William's  iron  craft. 

"  Lovest  thou  not,  William  Lord  of  Breteuil,  —  lovest 
thou  not  fame  for  the  sake  of  fame  ? " 

"  Sur  man  dme,  —  yes  !  "  said  the  baron. 

"  And  thou,  Taillefer  the  minstrel,  lovest  thou  not  song 
for  the  sake  of  song  1  " 

''For  song  alone,"  replied  the  mighty  minstrel.  "  More 
gold  in  one  ringing  rhyme  than  in  all  the  coffers  of  Chris- 
tendom." 

"  And  marvellest  thou,  reader  of  men's  hearts,"  said 
the  scholar,  turning  once  more  to  William,  "  that  the 
student  loves  knowledge  for  the  sake  of  knowledge? 
Born  of  high  race,  poor  in  purse,  and  slight  of  thews, 
betimes  I  found  wealth  in  books,  and  drew  strength  from 
lore.  I  heard  of  the  Count  of  Rouen  and  the  Normans, 
as  a  prince  of  small  domain,  with  a  measureless  spirit, 
a  lover  of  letters,  and  a  captain  in  war.  I  came  to  thy 
ducliy,  I  noted  its  subjects  and  its  prince,  and  the  words 
of  Themistocles  rang  in  my  ear  :  '  I  cannot  play  the  lute, 
but  I  can  make  a  small  state  great.'  I  felt  an  interest 
in  thy  strenuous  and  troubled  career.  I  believe  that 
knowledge,  to  spread  amongst  the  nations,  must  first  find 
a  nursery  in  the  brain  of  kings  ;  and  I  saw  in  the  deed- 
doer  the  agent  of  the  thinker.  In  those  espousals,  on 
which  with  untiring  obstinacy  thy  heart  is  set,  I  might 
sympathize  with  thee ;  perchance "  (here  a  melancholy 
smile  fitted  over  the  student's  pale  lips),  "  perchance 
even  as  a  lover  :  priest  though  I  be  now,  and  dead  to 
human  love,  once  I  loved,  and  I  know  what  it  is  to  strive 
in  hoi)e,  and  to  waste  in  despair.  But  my  sympathy,  I 
own,  was  more  given  to  the  prince  than  to  the  lover.  It 
was  natural  that  I,  priest  and  foreigner,  should  obey  at 


72  HAKOLD, 

first  the  orders  of  Mauger,  archprelate  and  spiritual  chief, 
and  tlie  more  so  as  the  law  was  with  him  :  but  wlieu  I 
resolved  to  stay,  despite  thy  sentence  which  banished  me, 
I  resolved  to  aid  thee  ;  for  if  with  Manger  was  the  dead 
law,  with  thee  was  the  living  canse  of  man.  Duke 
William,  on  thy  nuptials  with  Matilda  of  Flanders  rests 
thy  duchy, — rest,  perchance,  the  mightier  sceptres  that 
are  yet  to  come.  Thy  title  disputed,  thy  principality  new 
and  nnestablished,  thou,  above  all  men,  must  link  thy 
new  race  with  the  ancient  line  of  kings  and  kaisars. 
Matilda  is  the  descendant  of  Charlemagne  and  Alfred. 
Th}^  realm  is  insecure  as  long  as  France  undermines  it 
with  plots,  and  threatens  it  with  arms.  Marry  the 
daughter  of  Baldwin,  and  thy  wife  is  the  niece  of  Henry 
of  France,  —  thine  enemy  becomes  thy  kinsman,  and 
must,  perforce,  be  thine  ally.  This  is  not  all  ;  it  were 
strange,  looking  round  this  disordered  royalty  of  Eng- 
land, —  a  childless  king,  who  loves  thee  better  than  his 
own  blood  ;  a  divided  nobility,  already  adopting  the 
fashions  of  the  stranger,  and  accustomed  to  shift  their 
faith  from  Saxon  to  Dane,  and  Dane  to  Saxon  ;  a  people 
that  has  respect  indeed  for  brave  chiefs,  but,  seeing  new 
men  rise  daily  from  new  houses,  has  no  reverence  for 
ancient  lines  and  hereditary  names  ;  with  a  vast  mass  of 
villeins  or  slaves  that  have  no  interest  in  the  land  or  its 
rulers  :  strange,  seeing  all  this,  if  tliy  day-dreams  have 
not  also  beheld  a  jS^orman  sovereign  on  the  throne  of 
Saxon  England.  And  thy  marriage  with  the  descendant 
of  the  best  and  most  beloved  prince  that  ever  ruled  these 
realms,  if  it  does  not  give  thee  a  title  to  the  land,  may 
help  to  conciliate  its  afiections,  and  to  fix  thy  posterity 
in  the  halls  of  their  mother's  kin.  Have  I  said  eno'  to 
])rove  why,  for  the  sake  of  nations,  it  were  wise  for  the 
pontiff  to  stretch   the   harsh   girths  of   the  law  1  why  I 


HAROLD.  73 

might  be  enabled  to  prove  to  the  Court  of  Rome  the 
policy  of  conciliating  the  love,  and  strengthening  the 
hands  of  the  Norman  count  who  may  so  become  the  main 
prop  of  Christendom  ?  Yea,  have  I  said  eno'  to  prove 
that  the  humble  clerk  can  look  on  mundane  matters  with 
the  eye  of  a  man  w^ho  can  make  small  states  great  ? " 

William  remained  speechless,  —  his  hot  blood  thrilled 
with  a  half-superstitious  awe  ;  so  thoroughly  had  tliis 
obscure  Lombard  divined,  detailed  all  the  intricate 
meshes  of  that  policy  with  which  he  himself  had  inter- 
woven his  pertinacious  aifection  for  the  Flemish  princess, 
that  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  listened  to  the  echo  of  his 
own  heart,  or  heard  from  a  soothsayer  the  voice  of  his 
most  secret  thouglits. 

The  priest  continued  :  — 

"Wherefore,  thus  considering,  I  said  to  myself,  Now 
has  the  time  come,  Lanfranc  the  Lombard,  to  prove  to 
thee  whether  thy  self-boastings  have  been  a  vain  deceit, 
or  whether,  in  this  age  of  iron  and  amidst  this  lust  of 
gold,  thou,  the  penniless  and  the  feeble,  canst  make  know- 
ledge and  wit  of  moi'e  avail  to  the  destinies  of  kings  than 
armed  men  and  filled  treasuries.  I  believe  in  that  power. 
I  am  ready  for  the  test.  Pause,  judge  from  what  the 
Lord  of  Breteuil  hath  said  to  thee,  what  will  be  the 
defection  of  thy  lords  if  the  Pope  confirm  the  threatened 
excommunication  of  thine  uncle.  Thine  armies  will  rot 
from  thee  ;  thy  treasures  will  be  like  dry  leaves  in  thy 
coifers ;  the  Duke  of  Bretagne  will  claim  thy  duchy  as 
the  legitimate  heir  of  thy  forefathers  ;  the  Duke  of  Bur- 
gundy will  league  with  the  King  of  France,  and  march  on 
thy  faithless  legions  under  the  banner  of  the  Churcli. 
The  handwriting  is  on  the  walls,  and  thy  sceptre  and  thy 
crown  will  pass  away." 

William  set  his  teeth  firmly,  and  breathed  hard. 


74  HABOLD. 

"  But  send  me  to  Rome,  thy  delegate,  and  tlie  tluindel* 
of  jMauger  shall  fall  powerless.  Marry  Matilda,  bring 
her  to  thy  halls,  place  her  on  thy  throne,  laugh  to  scorn 
the  interdict  of  thy  traitor  uncle,  and  rest  assured  that 
the  Pope  shall  send  thee  his  dispensation  to  thy  spousals, 
and  his  benison  on  thy  marriage-bed.  And  when  tliis  he 
done,  Duke  William,  give  me  not  abbacies  and  prelacies, 
—  multiply  books,  and  stablish  schools,  and  bid  thy  ser- 
vant found  the  royalty  of  knowledge,  as  thou  shalt  found 
the  sovereignty  of  war." 

The  duke,  transported  from  himself,  leaped  up  and 
embraced  the  priest  with  his  vast  arms  ;  he  kissed  his 
cheeks,  he  kissed  his  forehead,  as,  in  those  days,  king 
kissed  king  with  "  the  kiss  of  peace." 

"  Lanfranc  of  Pavia,"  he  cried,  "  whether  thou  succeed 
or  fail,  thou  hast  my  love  and  gratitude  evermore.  As 
thou  speakest,  would  I  have  spoken,  had  I  been  born, 
framed,  and  reared  as  thou.  And,  verily,  when  I  hear 
thee,  I  blush  for  the  boasts  of  my  barbarous  pride,  that 
no  man  can  wield  my  mace,  or  bend  my  bow.  Poor  ia 
the  strength  of  body,  —  a  web  of  law  can  entangle  it,  and 
a  word  from  a  priest's  mouth  can  palsy.  But  thou  !  — 
let  me  look  at  thee." 

William  gazed  on  the  pale  face  ;  from  head  to  foot  he 
scanned  the  delicate,  slender  form,  and  then  turning  away, 
he  said  to  Fitzosborne,  — 

"  Thou,  whose  mailed  hand  hath  felled  a  war-steed,  art 
thou  not  ashamed  of  thyself  ?  The  day  is  coming,  I  see 
it  afar,  when  these  slight  men  shall  set  their  feet  upon 
our  corslets." 

He  paused  as  if  in  thought,  again  paced  the  room,  and 
stopped  before  the  crucifix,  and  image  of  the  Virgin, 
which  stood  in  a  niche  near  the  bed-head. 

"Right,    noble    prince,"    said    tlie    priest's    low    voice. 


HAROLD.  75 

"  Pause  there  for  a  solution  to  all  enigmas  ;  there  view 
the  symbol  of  all-enduring  power ;  there  learn  its  ends 
below,  —  comprehend  the  account  it  must  yield  above. 
To  your  thoughts  and  your  prayers  we  leave  you." 

He  took  the  stalwart  arm  of  Taillefer  as  he  spoke,  and, 
with  a  grave  obeisance  to  Fitzosborne,  left  the  chamber. 


76  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER   III. 

The  next  morning  William  was  long  closeted  alone  with 
Lanfranc,  —  that  man,  among  the  must  remarkable  of  his 
age,  of  whom  it  was  said,  that  "  to  comprehend  the 
extent  of  his  talents,  one  must  be  Herodian  in  grammar, 
Aristotle  in  dialectics,  Cicero  in  rhetoric,  Augustine  and 
Jerome  in  Scriptural  lore,"  ^ — ^  and  ere  the  noon  the 
duke's  gallant  and  princely  train  were  ordered  to  be  in 
readiness  for  return  home. 

The  crowd  in  the  broad  space,  and  the  citizens  from 
their  boats  in  the  river,  gazed  on  the  knights  and  steeds 
of  that  goigeous  comfiany,  already  drawn  up  and  await- 
ing without  the  open  gates  the  sound  of  the  trumpets 
that  should  announce  the  duke's  departure.  Before  the 
hall-door  in  tlie  inner-court  were  his  own  men.  The 
snow-white  steed  of  Odo  ;  the  alezan  of  Fitzosborne  ;  and, 
to  the  marvel  of  all,  a  small  palfrey,  plainly  caparisoned, 
"What  did  that  palfrey  amid  those  steeds  1  —  the  steeds 
themselves  seemed  to  chafe  at  the  companionshi})  ;  the 
duke's  charger  pricked  up  his  ears  and  snorted  ;  the  Lord 
of  Breteuil's  alezan  kicked  out,  as  the  poor  nag  humbly 
drew  near  to  make  acquaintance  ;  and  the  prelate's  white 
barb,  with  red,  vicious  eye,  and  ears  laid  down,  ran 
fiercely  at  the  low-bred  intruder,  with  difficulty  reined 
in  by  the  squires,  who  shared  the  beast's  amaze  and 
resentment. 

1  Ord.  Vital. 


HAROLD.  77 

Meanwhile  the  duke  thoughtfully  took  his  way  to 
Edward's  apartments.  In  the  anteroom  were  many 
monks  and  many  knights  ;  but  conspicuous  amongst 
them  all  was  a  tall  and  stately  veteran,  leaning  on  a 
great,  two-lianded  sword,  and  whose  dress  and  fashion  of 
beard  were  those  of  the  last  generation,  the  men  who  had 
fought  with  Canute  the  Great,  or  Edmund  Ironsides. 
So  grand  was  the  old  man's  aspect,  and  so  did  he  contrast 
in  appearance  the  narrow  garb  and  shaven  chins  of  those 
around,  that  the  duke  was  roused  from  his  reverie  at  the 
sight,  and  marvelling  why  one,  evidently  a  chief  of  high 
rank,  had  neither  graced  the  banquet  in  his  honor,  nor 
been  presented  to  his  notice,  he  turned  to  the  Earl  of 
Hereford,  who  approached  him  with  gay  salutation,  and 
inquired  the  name  and  title  of  the  bearded  man  in  the 
loose,  flowing  robe. 

"  Know  you  not,  in  truth  ? "  said  the  lively  earl  in 
some  wonder.  "  In  him  you  see  the  great  rival  of 
Godwin.  He  is  the  hero  of  the  Danes,  as  Godwin  is 
of  the  Saxons,  a  true  son  of  Odin,  Siward  Earl  of  the 
Korthumbrians."  ^ 

"  Xotre  Dame  be  my  aid,  —  his  fame  hath  oft  filled 
my  ears,  and  I  should  have  lost  the  most  welcome  sight 
in  merrie  England  had  I  not  now  beheld  him." 

^  Siward  was  almost  a  giant  (pefie  gigas  statura).  There  are 
some  curious  anecdotes  of  this  hero,  immortalized  by  Shakespeare, 
in  the  "  Bromton  Clironicle."  His  grandfather  is  said  to  have 
been  a  bear,  who  fell  in  love  with  a  Danish  lady  ;  and  his  father, 
Beoru,  retained  some  of  the  traces  of  the  parental  physiognomy  in 
a  pair  of  pointed  ears.  The  origin  of  this  fable  seems  evident. 
His  grandfather  was  a  Berserker:  for  whether  that  name  be 
derived,  as  is  more  generally  supposed,  from  bare-sark,  or  rather 
from  bear-sark,  —  that  is,  whether  this  grisly  specimen  of  the  Vik- 
ing genus  fought  in  his  shirt  or  his  bear-skin,  —  the  name  equally 
lends  itself  to  those  mystifications  from  which  half  the  old  legends, 
whether  of  Greece  or  Norway,  are  derived. 


78  HAROLD. 

Therewith  the  duke  approached  courteously,  and, 
doffing  the  cap  he  had  hitlierto  retained,  lie  greeted  the 
old  hero  with  those  compliments  which  the  Norman  had 
already  learned  in  the  courts  of  the  Frank. 

The  stout  earl  received  them  coldly,  and  replying  in 
Danish  to  William's  Romance  tongue,  he  said,  — 

"  Pardon,  Count  of  the  Normans,  if  these  old  lips 
cling  to  their  old  words.  Both  of  us,  methinks,  date  our 
lineage  from  the  lands  of  the  Norse.  Suifer  Siward  to 
speak  the  language  the  sea-kings  spoke.  The  old  oak  is 
not  to  be  transplanted,  and  the  old  man  keeps  the  ground 
where  his  youth  took  root." 

The  duke,  who  with  some  difficulty  comprehended  the 
general  meaning  of  Siward's  speech,  bit  his  lip,  but 
replied  courteously,  — 

"  The  youths  of  all  nations  may  learn  from  renowned 
age.  Much  doth  it  shame  me  that  I  cannot  commune 
with  thee  in  the  ancestral  tongue  ;  but  the  angels  at 
least  know  the  language  of  the  Norman  Christian,  and 
I  pray  them  and  the  saints  for  a  calm  end  to  thy  brave 
career." 

"  Pray  not  to  angel  or  saint  for  Siward  son  of  Beorn," 
said  the  old  man,  hastily  ;  "  let  me  not  have  a  cow's 
death,  but  a  warrior's  :  die  in  my  mail  of  proof,  axe  in 
hand,  and  helm  on  head.  And  such  may  be  my  death, 
if  Edward  the  king  reads  my  rede  and  grants  my  prayer." 

"  I  have  influence  with  the  king,"  said  William  ; 
"  name  thy  wish,  that  I  may  back  it." 

"  The  fiend  forefend,"  said  the  grim  earl,  "  that  a 
foreign  prince  should  sway  England's  king,  or  that  thegn 
and  earl  should  ask  other  backing  than  leal  service  and 
just  cause.  If  Edward  be  the  saint  men  call  him,  he  will 
loose  me  on  the  hell-wolf  without  other  cry  than  his  own 
conscience." 


HAROLD.  79 

The  duke  turned  inquiringly  to  Eolf ;  who,  thus 
appealed  to,  said,  — 

"  Siward  urges  my  uncle  to  espouse  the  cause  of 
Malcolm  of  Cumbria  against  the  bloody  tyrant  Macbeth  ; 
and  but  for  the  disputes  with  the  traitor  Godwin,  the 
king  had  long  since  turned  his  arms  to  Scotland." 

"  Call  not  traitors,  young  man,"  said  the  earl,  in  high 
disdain,  "  those  who,  with  all  their  faults  and  crimes, 
have  placed  thy  kinsman  on  the  throne  of  Canute." 

"  Hush,  Eolf,"  said  the  iluke,  observing  the  fierce 
young  Norman  about  to  reply  hastily.  "  But  methought, 
though  my  knowledge  of  English  troubles  is  but  scant, 
that  Siward  was  the  sworn  foe  to  Godwin  ?" 

"  Foe  to  him  in  his  power,  friend  to  him  in  his 
wrongs,"  answered  Siward.  "  And  if  England  needs 
defenders  when  I  and  Godwin  are  in  our  shrouds,  there 
is  but  one  man  worthy  of  the  days  of  old,  and  his  name 
is  Harold,  the  outlaw." 

William's  face  changed  remarkably,  despite  all  his  dis- 
simulation ;  and,  with  a  slight  inclination  of  his  head,  he 
strode  on,  moody  and  irritated. 

"  This  Harold!  this  Harold  !  "  he  muttered  to  himself, 
"all  brave  men  speak  to  me  of  this  Harold!  Even  my 
Norman  knights  name  him  with  reluctant  reverence,  and 
even  his  foes  do  him  honor ;  —  verily  his  shadow  is  cast 
from  exile  over  all  the  land." 

Thus  murmuring,  he  passed  the  throng  with  less  than 
his  wonted  affable  grace,  and  pushing  back  the  officers 
who  wished  to  precede  him,  entered,  without  ceremony, 
Edward's  private  chamber. 

The  king  was  alone,  but  talking  loudly  to  himself,  gestic- 
ulating vehemently,  and  altogether  so  changed  from  his 
ordinary  placid  apathy  of  mien,  that  William  drew  back 
in  alarm  and  awe.     Often  had  he  heard  indirectly,  that 


80  HAROLD. 

of  late  years  Edward  was  said  to  see  visions,  and  be  rapt 
from  himself  into  the  world  of  spirit  and  shadow ;  and 
such,  he  now  douhted  not,  was  the  strange  paroxysm  of 
which  he  was  made  the  witness.  Edward's  eyes  were 
fixed  on  him,  but  evidently  without  recognizing  his  pres- 
ence ;  the  king's  hands  were  outstretched,  and  he  cried 
aloud  in  a  voice  of  sharp  anguish,  — 

"■  Sanguelac,  Sanguelac / — the  Lake  of  Blood!  —  the 
waves  spread,  the  waves  redden  !  Mother  of  mercy,  — 
where  is  the  ark  1  —  where  the  Ararat  ?  —  Fly  —  fly  — 
this  way — this — "and  he  caught  convulsive  liold  of 
William's  arm.  "  Xo  /  there  the  corpses  are  piled  —  high 
and  higher  —  there  the  horse  of  the  Apocalypse  tramples 
the  dead  in  their  gore." 

In  great  horror,  William  took  the  king,  now  gasping 
on  his  breast,  in  his  arms,  and  laid  him  on  his  bed 
beneath  its  canopy  of  state,  all  blazoned  with  the  mart- 
lets and  cross  of  his  insignia.  Slowly  Edward  came  to 
himself,  with  heavy  sighs ;  and  when  at  length  he  sat 
up  and  looked  round,  it  was  with  evident  unconscious- 
ness of  what  had  passed  across  his  haggard  and  wander- 
ing spirit,  for  he  said  with  his  usual  drowsy  calmness,  — 

"  Thanks,  Guillaume,  hien  aime,  for  rousing  me  from 
unseasoned  sleep.     How  fares  it  with  thee  ? " 

"  Nay,  how  with  thee,  dear  friend  and  king  ?  thy  dreams 
have  been  troubled." 

"Not  so  ;  I  slept  so  heavily,  methinks  I  could  not  have 
dreamed  at  all.  But  thou  art  clad  as  for  a  journey,  — 
spur  on  thy  heel,  staff  in  thy  hand  !  " 

"  Long  since,  0  dear  host,  I  sent  Odo  to  tell  thee  of  the 
ill  news  from  Normandy  that  compelled  me  to  depart." 

"  I  remember  —  I  remember  me  now,"  said  Edward, 
passing  his  pale  womanly  fingers  over  his  forehead. 
"  The  heathen  rage  against  thee.     Ah  !  my  poor  brother, 


HAROLD.  81 

a  crown  is  an  awful  head-gear.  While  yet  time,  wliy 
not  both  seek  some  quiet  convent,  and  put  away  these 
earthly  cares  1 " 

William  smiled  and  shook  his  head.  "  Nay,  holy 
Edward,  from  all  I  have  seen  of  convents,  it  is  a  dream 
to  think  that  the  monk's  serge  hides  a  calmer  breast  than 
the  warrior's  mail,  or  the  king's  ermine.  Now  give  me 
thy  benison,  for  I  go." 

He  knelt  as  he  spoke,  and  Edward  bent  his  hands  over 
his  head,  and  blessed  him.  Then,  taking  from  his  own 
neck  a  collar  of  zimmes  (jewels  and  uncut  gems),  of  great 
price,  the  king  threw  it  over  the  broad  throat  bent  before 
him,  and  rising,  clapped  his  hands.  A  small  door  opened, 
giving  a  glimpse  of  the  oratory  Avithin,  and  a  monk  ap- 
peared. 

"  Father,  have  my  behests  been  fulfilled  1  —  hath 
Hugoline,  my  treasurer,  dispensed  the  gifts  that  I  spoke 
ofl" 

"  Verily,  yes  ;  vault,  coffer,  and  garde-robe  —  stall  and 
meuse  —  are  well-nigh  drained,"  answered  the  monk  with 
a  sour  look  at  the  Norman,  whose  native  avarice  gleamed 
in  his  dark  eyes  as  he  heard  the  answer. 

"  Thy  train  go  not  hence  empty-handed,"  said  Edward, 
fondly.  "  Thy  father's  halls  shelter  the  exile,  and  the 
exile  forgets  not  the  sole  pleasure  of  a  king  —  the  power 
to  requite.  We  may  never  meet  again,  William,  —  age 
creeps  over  me,  and  who  will  succeed  to  my  thorny 
throne  1 " 

William  longed  to  answer,  to  tell  the  hope  that  con- 
sumed him,  —  to  remind  his  cousin  of  the  vague  promise 
in  their  youth,  that  the  Norman  count  should  succeed 
to  that  "  thorny  throne  ; "  but  the  presence  of  the  Saxon 
monk  repelled  him,  nor  was  there  in  Edward's  uneasy 
look  much  to  allure  him  on. 

VOL.  I.  —  6 


82  HAKOLD. 

"  But  peace,"  continued  the  king,  "  be  between  thine 
and  mine,  as  between  thee  and  me  ! " 

"  Amen,"  said  the  duke,  "  and  I  leave  thee  at  least  free 
from  the  proud  rebels  who  so  long  disturbed  thy  reign. 
This  House  of  Godwin,  thou  wilt  not  again  let  it  tower 
above  thy  palace  1 " 

"  ISTay,  the  future  is  with  God  and  bis  saints,"  answered 
Edward,  feebly.  "  But  Godwin  is  old,  — older  than  I, — 
and  bowed  by  many  storms." 

"  Ay,  his  sons  are  more  to  be  dreaded,  and  kept  aloof, 
—  mostly  Harold  !  " 

"  Harold,  —  he  was  ever  obedient,  he  alone  of  his 
kith ;  truly  my  soul  mourns  for  Harold,"  said  the  king, 


OI 


siglnng. 


The  serpent's  egg  hatches  but  the  serpent.    Keep  thy 
heel  on  it,"  said  William,  sternly. 

"  Thou  speakest  well,"  said  the  irresolute  prince,  who 
never  seemed  three  days  or  three  minutes  together  in  the 
same  mind.  "  Harold  is  in  Ireland,  —  there  let  him  rest : 
better  for  all." 

"  For  all,"  said  the  duke  ;  "  so  the  saints  keep  thee,  0 
royal  saint !  " 

He  kissed  the  king's  hand,  and  strode  away  to  the  hall 
where  Odo,  Fitzosborne,  and  the  priest  Lanfranc  awaited 
him.  And  so  that  day,  half-way  towards  the  fair  town  of 
Dover,  rode  Duke  William,  and  by  the  side  of  his  roan 
barb  ambled  the  priest's  palfrey. 

Behind  came  his  gallant  train,  and  with  tumbrils  and 
sumpter-mules  laden  with  baggage,  and  enriched  by 
Edward's  gifts  ;  while  Welsh  hawks,  and  steeds  of  great 
price  from  the  pastures  of  Surrey,  and  the  plains  of 
Cambridge  and  York,  attested  no  less  acceptably  than 
zimme,  and  golden  chain,  and  broidered  robe,  the  munifi- 
cence of  the  grateful  king.^ 

1  Wace. 


HAROLD.  83 

As  they  journeyed  on,  and  the  fame  of  the  duke's 
coming  was  sent  abroad  by  the  bodes  or  messengers, 
despatched  to  prepare  the  towns  through  Avhich  he  was 
to  pass  for  an  arrival  sooner  than  expected,  the  more 
liigh-born  j^ouths  of  England,  especially  those  of  the  party 
counter  to  that  of  the  banished  Godwin,  came  round  the 
ways  to  gaze  upon  that  famous  chief,  who,  from  the  age 
of  fifteen,  had  wielded  the  most  redoubtable  sword  of 
Christendom.  And  those  youths  wore  the  ]S"orman  garb  : 
and,  in  the  towns,  Norman  counts  held  his  stirrup  to  dis- 
mount, and  l!^orman  hosts  spread  the  fastidious  board  ; 
and  when,  at  the  eve  of  the  next  day,  William  saw  the 
pennon  of  one  of  his  own  favorite  chiefs  waving  in  the 
van  of  armed  men,  that  sallied  forth  from  the  towers  of 
Dover  (the  ke^^  of  the  coast),  he  turned  to  the  Lombard, 
still  by  his  side,  and  said,  — 

"  Is  not  England  part  of  Xormandy  already  ?  " 

And  the  Lombard  answered,  — 

"  The  fruit  is  well-nigh  ripe,  and  the  first  breeze  will 
shake  it  to  thy  feet.  Put  not  out  thy  hand  too  soon. 
Let  the  wind  do  its  work." 

And  the  duke  made  reply,  — 

"  As  thou  thinkest,  so  think  I.  And  there  is  but  one 
wind  in  the  halls  of  heaven  that  can  waft  the  fruit  to  the 
feet  of  another." 

"  And  that  1 "  asked  the  Lombard. 

"  Is  the  wind  that  blows  from  the  shores  of  Ireland, 
when  it  fills  the  sails  of  Harold,  son  of  Godwin." 

"Thoufearest  that  man,  and  why? "asked  the  Lom- 
bard with  interest. 

And  the  duke  answered,  — 

"  Because  in  the  breast  of  Harold  beats  the  heart  of 
England." 


BOOK    III. 


THE   HOUSE   OP   GODWIN. 


CHAPTER  L 

And  all  went  to  the  desire  of  Duke  William  the  Norman. 
With  one  hand  he  curbed  his  proud  vassals,  and  drove 
back  his  fierce  foes ;  with  tlie  other  he  led  to  the  altar 
Matilda,  the  maid  of  Flanders,  and  all  happened  as 
Lanf ranc  had  foretold.  William's  most  formidable  enemy, 
the  King  of  France,  ceased  to  conspire  against  his  new 
kinsman ;  and  the  neighboring  princes  said,  "  The  Bas- 
tard hath  become  one  of  us  since  he  placed  by  his  side 
the  descendant  of  Charlemagne."  And  Mauger,  Arch- 
bishop of  Rouen,  excommunicated  the  duke  and  his 
bride,  and  the  ban  fell  idle ;  for  Lanfranc  sent  from 
Rome  the  Pope's  dispensation  and  blessing,  conditionally 
only  that  bride  and  bridegroom  founded  each  a  church. 
And  ]\Iauger  was  summoned  before  the  synod,  and  accused 
of  unclerical  crimes ;  and  they  deposed  him  from  his  state, 
and  took  from  him  abbacies  and  sees.  And  England, 
every  day,  waxed  more  and  more  Norman ;  and  Edward 
grew  more  feeble  and  infirm,  and  there  seemed  not  a  bar- 
rier between  the  Norman  duke  and  the  English  throne, 
•when  suddenly  the  wind  blew  in  the  halls  of  heaven,  and 
filled  the  sails  of  Harold  the  Earl. 


86  HAROLD. 

And  his  ships  came  to  the  mouth  of  the  Severn.  And 
the  people  of  Somerset  and  Devon,  a  mixed  and  mainly 
a  Celtic  race,  who  bore  small  love  to  the  Saxons,  drew 
together  against  him,  and  he  put-  them  to  flight.^ 

Meanwhile,  Godwin  and  his  sons  Sweyn,  Tostig,  and 
Gurth,  who  had  taken  refuge  in  that  very  Flanders  from 
which  William  the  Duke  had  won  his  bride  —  (for  Tostig 
had  wed,  previously,  the  sister  of  Matilda,  the  rose  of 
Flanders ;  and  Count  Baldwin  had  for  his  sons-in-law 
both  Tostig  and  William)  —  meanwhile,  I  say,  these,  not 
holpen  by  the  Count  Baldwin,  but  helping  themselves, 
lay  at  Bruges,  ready  to  join  Harold  the  P^arl.  And 
Edward,  advised  of  this  from  the  anxious  Norm;;n,  caused 
forty  ships  ^  to  be  equipped,  and  put  them  under  command 
of  Rolf,  Earl  of  Hereford.  The  ships  lay  at  Sandwich  in 
wait  for  Godwin.  But  the  old  earl  got  from  them,  and 
landed  quietly  on  the  southern  coast ;  and  the  fort  of 
Hastings  opened  to  his  coming  with  a  shout  from  its 
armed  men. 

All  the  boatmen,  all  the  mariners,  far  and  near,  thronged 
to  him,  with  sail  and  with  shield,  with  sword  and  with 
oar.  All  Kent  (the  foster-mother  of  the  Saxons)  sent 
forth  the  cry,  "  Life  or  death  with  Earl  Godwin."  ^  Fast 
over  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land  went  the  bodes  * 
and  riders  of  the  earl ;  and  hosts,  with  one  voice,  answered 
the  cry  of  the  children  of  Horsa,  "  Life  or  death  with 
Earl  Godwin."  And  the  ships  of  King  Edward,  in  dis- 
may, turned  flag  and  prow  to  London,  and  the  fleet  of 
Harold  sailed  on.  So  the  old  earl  met  his  young  son  on 
the  deck  of  a  war-ship  that  had  once  borne  the  Eaven  of 
the  Dane. 

1  "  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle."  ^  Some  writers  say  fifty. 

*  Hovenden.  *  Bodes,  —  that  is,  messengers. 


HAROLD.  87 

Swelled  and  gathering  sailed  the  armament  of  the 
English  men.  Slow  up  the  Thames  it  sailed,  and  on 
either  shore  marched  tumultuous  the  swarming  multi- 
tudes. And  King  Edward  sent  after  more  help,  but  it 
came  up  very  late.  So  the  fleet  of  the  earl  nearly  faced 
the  Julliet  Keape  of  London,  and  abode  at  Southwark  till 
the  flood-tide  came  up.  When  he  had  mustered  his 
host,  then  came  the  flood-tide.-^ 

1  "  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle." 


88  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Xing  Edward  sat,  not  on  his  throne,  but  on  a  chair  of 
state  in  the  presence-chamber  of  hit,  palace  of  West- 
minster. His  diadem,  with  the  three  zimmes  shaped 
into  a  triple  trefoil  ^  ou  his  brow,  his  sceptre  in  his  right 
hand.  His  royal  robe,  tight  to  the  throat,  with  a  broad 
band  of  gold,  flowed  to  his  feet ;  and  at  the  fold  gathered 
round  the  left  knee,  where  now  the  kings  of  England 
wear  the  badge  of  St.  George,  was  embroidered  a  simple 
cross.^  In  that  chamber  met  the  thegns  and  proceres  of 
his  realm  :  but  not  they  alone.  No  national  Witan  there 
assembled,  but  a  council  of  war,  composed  at  least  one- 
third  part  of  Normans,  ■ —  counts,  knights,  prelates,  and 
abbots  of  high  degree. 

And  King  Edward  looked  a  king !  The  habitual 
lethargic  meekness  had  vanished  from  his  face,  and  the 
large  crown  threw  a  shadow,  like  a  frown,  over  his  brow. 
His  spirit  seemed  to  have  risen  from  the  weight  it  took 
from  the  sluggish  blood  of  his  father,  Ethelred  the 
Unready,  and  to  have  remounted  to  the  brighter  and  ear- 
lier source  of  ancestral  heroes.  Worthy  in  that  hour  he 
seemed  to  boast  the  blood  and  wield  the  sceptre  of  Athel- 
stan  and  Alfred. 

Thus  spoke  the  king  :  — 

"  Right  worthy  and  beloved,  my  ealdermen,  earls,  and 
thegns  of  England  ;  noble  and  familiar,  my  friends  and 

^  Or  rienr-de  lis,  which  seems  to  have  been  a  common  form  of 
ornament  with  tlie  Saxon  kings. 
'■^  Bayeux  tapestry. 


HAROLD.  89 

guests,  counts  and  chevaliers  of  Xormand}'',  my  mother's 
land  ;  and  you,  our  spiritual  chiefs,  above  all  ties  of  birth 
and  country,  Christendom  your  common  appanage,  and 
from  Heaven  your  seignories  and  fiefs,  — -  hear  the  words 
of  Edward,  the  King  of  England,  under  grace  of  the  Most 
High.  The  rebels  are  in  our  river  ;  open  yonder  lattice, 
and  you  will  see  the  piled  shields  glittering  from  their 
barks,  and  hear  the  hum  of  their  hosts.  Not  a  bow  has 
yet  been  drawn,  not  a  sword  left  its  sheath  ;  yet  on  the 
opposite  side  of  tlie  river  are  our  fleets  of  forty  sail,  — 
along  the  strand,  between  our  palace  and  the  gates  of 
London,  are  arrayed  our  armies.  And  this  pause  because 
Godwin  the  traitor  hath  demanded  truce,  and  his  nuncius 
waits  without.  Are  ye  willing  that  we  should  hear  the 
message  1  or  would  ye  rather  that  we  dismiss  the  messen- 
ger unheard,  and  pass  at  once,  to  rank  and  to  sail,  the 
war-cry  of  a  Christian  king,  '  Holy  Crosse  and  our 
Lady!'" 

The  king  ceased,  his  left  hand  grasping  firm  the  leopard 
head  carved  on  his  throne,  and  his  sceptre  untrembling  in. 
his  lifted  hand. 

A  murmur  of  "  N'otre  Dame!  Notre  Dame  /"  the  war- 
cry  of  the  Normans,  was  heard  amongst  the  stranger- 
knights  of  the  audience  ;  but  haughty  and  arrogant  as 
those  strangers  were,  no  one  presumed  to  take  precedence, 
in  England's  danger,  of  men  English  born. 

Slowly  then  rose  Aired,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  the 
worthiest  prelate  in  all  the  land.-^ 

1  The  "  York  Chronicle,"  written  by  an  Englishman,  Stubhs, 
gives  tills  eminent  person  an  excellent  character  as  peace-maker. 
"  He  could  make  the  warmest  friends  of  foes  the  most  hostile." 
"  De  iuimicissimis,  amicissimos  faceret."  This  gentle  priest  had 
yet  the  conrage  to  curse  the  Norman  Conqueror  in  the  midst  of  his 
harons.  That  scene  is  not  within  the  range  of  this  work,  but  it  is 
very  strikingly  told  iu  the  '"  Chronicle." 


90  HAROLD. 

"Kingly  son,"  said  the  bishop,  "evil  is  the  strife 
between  men  of  the  same  blood  and  lineage,  nor  justified 
but  by  extremes,  which  have  not  yet  been  made  clear  to 
us.  And  ill  would  it  sound  throughout  England  were  it 
said  that  the  king's  council  gave,  perchance,  his  city  of 
London  to  sword  and  fire,  and  rent  his  land  in  twain, 
when  a  word  in  season  might  have  disbanded  yon  armies, 
and  given  to  your  throne  a  submissive  subject,  where 
now  you  are  menaced  by  a  formidable  rebel.  Wherefore, 
I  say,  admit  the  nuncius." 

Scarcely  had  Aired  resumed  his  seat,  before  Robert  the 
Norman  prelate  of  Canterbury  started  up  —  a  man,  it 
was  said,  of  worldly  learning  —  and  exclaimed,  — 

"  To  admit  the  messenger  is  to  approve  the  treason.  I 
do  beseech  the  king  to  consult  only  his  own  royal  heart 
and  royal  honor.  Reflect  :  each  moment  of  delay  swells 
the  rebel  hosts,  —  strengthens  their  cause ;  of  each 
moment  they  avail  themselves,  to  allure  to  their  side  the 
misguided  citizen.s.  Delay  but  proves  our  own  weakness ; 
a  king's  name  is  a  tower  of  strength,  but  only  when  forti- 
fied by  a  king's  authority.  Give  the  signal  for  —  tvar  I 
call  it  not  —  no  —  for  chastisement  and  justice." 

"  As  speaks  my  brother  of  Canterbury,  speak  I,"  said 
"William,  Bishop  of  London,  another  Norman. 

But  then  there  rose  up  a  form  at  whose  rising  all  mur- 
murs were  hushed. 

Gray  and  vast,  as  some  image  of  a  gone  and  mightier 
age,  towered  over  all  Siward  the  son  of  Beorn,  the  great 
Earl  of  Northumbria. 

"We  have  nought  to  do  with  the  Normans.  Were 
they  on  the  river,  and  our  countrymen,  Dane  or  Saxon, 
alone  in  this  hall,  small  doubt  of  the  king's  choice,  and 
niddering  were  the  man  who  s})oke  of  peace  ;  but  when 
Norman  advises  the  dwellers  of  England  to  go  forth  and 


HAROLD.  91 

slay  each  other,  no  sword  of  mine  shall  be  drawn  at  his 
best.  Who  shall  say  that  Siward  of  the  Strong  Arm, 
the  grandson  of  the  Berserker,  ever  turned  from  a  foe  t 
The  foe,  son  of  Ethelred,  sits  in  these  halls ;  I  fight  thy 
battles  when  I  say  Nay  to  the  Norman  !  Brothers-in- 
arms of  the  kindred  race  and  common  tongue,  Dane  and 
Saxon  long  intermingled,  proud  alike  of  Canute  the 
glorious  and  Alfred  the  wise,  ye  will  hear  the  man  whom 
Godwin,  our  countryman,  sends  to  us  ;  he  at  least  will 
speak  our  tongue,  and  he  knows  our  laws.  If  the  demand 
he  delivers  be  just,  such  as  a  king  should  grant,  and  our 
Witan  should  hear,  woe  to  him  who  refuses  ;  if  unjust  be 
the  demand,  shame  to  him  who  accedes.  Warrior  sends 
to  warrior,  countryman  to  countryman  ;  hear  we  as  coun- 
trymen, and  judge  as  warriors.     I  have  said." 

The  utmost  excitement  and  agitation  followed  the 
si)eech  of  Siward,  — unanimous  applause  from  the  Sax- 
ons, even  those  who  in  times  of  peace  were  most  under 
the  Norman  contagion  ;  but  no  words  can  paint  the  wrath 
and  scorn  of  the  Normans.  They  spoke  loud  and  many 
at  a  time ;  the  greatest  disorder  prevailed.  But  the 
majority  being  English,  there  could  be  no  doubt  as  to 
the  decision,  and  Edward,  to  whom  the  emergence  gave 
both  a  dignity  and  presence  of  mind  rare  to  him,  resolved 
to  terminate  the  dispute  at  once.  He  stretched  forth  his 
sceptre,  and,  motioning  to  his  chamberlain,  bade  him 
introduce  the  nuncius.^ 

A  blank  disappointment,  not  unmixed  with  apprehen- 
sive terror,  succeeded  the  turbulent  excitement  of  the 
Normans ;  for  well  they  knew  that  the  consequences,  if 
not  condition,  of  negotiations  would  be  their  own  down- 

1  Heralds,  though  prohahly  the  word  is  Saxon,  were  not  then 
known  in  the  modern  acceptation  of  the  word.  The  name  given 
to  the  messenger  or  envoy  who  fulfilled  that  office  was  bode  or 
nnucius. 


92  HAROLD, 

fall  and  banishment  at  the  least ;  —  happy,  it  might  he, 
to  escape  massacre  at  the  hands  of  the  exasperated 
multitude. 

The  door  at  the  end  of  the  room  opened,  and  the 
nuncius  appeared.  He  was  a  sturdy,  broad-shouldered 
man,  of  middle  age,  and  in  the  long,  loose  garb  originally 
rational  with  the  Saxon,  though  then  little  in  vogue  ;  his 
beard  thick  and  fair,  his  eyes  gray  and  calm  —  a  chief  of 
Kent,  where  all  the  prejudices  of  his  race  were  strongest, 
and  whose  yeomanry  claimed  in  war  the  hereditary  right 
to  be  placed  in  the  front  of  battle. 

He  made  his  manly  but  deferential  salutation  to  the 
august  council  as  he  approached;  and  pausing  midway 
between  the  throne  and  door,  he  fell  on  his  knees  with- 
out thought  of  shame,  for  the  king  to  whom  he  knelt  was 
the  descendant  of  Woden,  and  the  heir  of  Hengist.  At 
a  sign  and  a  brief  word  from  the  king,  still  on  his  knees, 
Vebba,  the  Kentman,  spoke. 

"  To  Edward,  son  of  Ethelred,  his  most  gracious  king 
and  lord,  Godwin,  son  of  Wolnoth,  sends  faithful  and 
humble  greeting,  by  Vebba,  the  thegn-born.  He  prays 
the  king  to  hear  him  in  kindness,  and  judge  of  him  with 
mercy.  Not  against  the  king  comes  he  hither  with  ships 
and  arms ;  but  against  those  only  who  would  stand  between 
the  king's  heart  and  the  subject's  :  those  who  have  divided 
a  house  against  itself,  and  parted  son  and  father,  man 
and  wife  —  " 

At  those  last  words  Edward's  sceptre  trembled  in  his 
hand,  and  his  face  grew  almost  stern. 

"  Of  the  king,  Godwin  but  prays  with  all  submiss  and 
earnest  prayer  to  reverse  the  unrighteous  outlawry  against 
him  and  his  ;  to  restore  to  him  and  his  sons  their  just 
possessions  and  well-won  honors  ;  and,  more  than  all,  to 
replace  them  where  they  have  sought  by  loving  service 


HAROLD.  93 

not  unworthily  to  stand,  in  the  grace  of  their  born  lord, 
and  in  the  van  of  those  who  would  uphold  the  laws  and 
liberties  of  England.  This  done,  —  the  ships  sail  back  to 
their  haven ;  the  thegn  seeks  his  homestead,  and  the 
ceorl  returns  to  the  plough  ;  for  with  Godwin  are  no 
strangers :  and  his  force  is  but  the  love  of  his  coun- 
trymen." 

"  Hast  thou  said  1 "  quoth  the  king. 

"I  have  said." 

"Retire,  and  await  our  answer." 

The  Thegn  of  Kent  was  then  led  back  into  an  ante- 
room, in  which,  armed  from  head  to  heel  in  ring-mail, 
were  several  Normans  whose  youth  or  station  did  not 
admit  them  into  the  council,  but  still  of  no  mean  interest 
in  the  discussion,  from  the  lands  and  possessions  they  had 
already  contrived  to  gripe  out  of  the  demesnes  of  the 
exiles ;  —  burning  for  battle  and  eager  for  the  word. 
Amongst  these  was  Mallet  de  Graville. 

The  jS'orman  valor  of  this  young  knight  was,  as  we 
have  seen,  guided  by  Norman  intelligence  ;  and  he  had 
not  disdained,  since  William's  departure,  to  study  the 
tongue  of  the  country  in  which  he  hoped  to  exchange 
his  mortgaged  tower  on  the  Seine  for  some  fair  barony  on 
the  Humber  or  the  Thames, 

While  the  rest  of  his  proud  countrymen  stood  aloof, 
with  eyes  of  silent  scorn,  from  the  homely  nuncius. 
Mallet  approached  him  with  courteous  bearing,  and  said 
in  Saxon,  — 

"  May  I  crave  to  know  the  issue  of  thy  message  from 
the  reb  —  that  is,  from  the  doughty  earl  ?  " 

"  I  wait  to  learn  it,"  said  Vebba,  bluffly. 

"  They  heard  thee  throughout,  then  ?  " 

"Throughout." 

"  Friendly  sir,"  said  the  Sire  de  Graville,  seeking  to 


94  HAROLD. 

subdue  the  tone  of  irony  habitual  to  him,  and  acquired 
perhaps  from  his  maternal  ancestry,  the  Franks  — 
"  friendly  and  peace-making  sir,  dare  I  so  far  venture  to 
intrude  on  the  secrets  of  thy  mission  as  to  ask  if  Godwin 
demands,  among  otlier  reasonable  items,  the  head  of  thy 
humble  servant  —  not  l)y  name  indeed,  for  my  name  is 
as  yet  unknown  to  him  —  but  as  one  of  the  unhappy 
class  called  jNTormans  1 " 

"  Had  Earl  Godwin,"  returned  the  nuncius,  "  thought 
fit  to  treat  for  peace  by  asking  vengeance,  he  would  have 
chosen  anotlier  spokesman.  The  earl  asks  but  his  own  ; 
and  thy  head  is  not,  I  trow,  a  part  of  his  goods  and 
chattels. " 

"  That  is  comforting."  said  Mallet.  "  Marry,  I  thank 
thee,  Sir  Saxon  ;  and  thou  speakest  like  a  brave  man  and 
an  honest.  And  if  we  fall  to  blows,  as  I  suspect  we 
shall,  I  should  deem  it  a  favor  of  our  Lady  the  Virgin  if 
she  send  thee  across  my  way.  Next  to  a  fair  friend  I 
love  a  bold  foe," 

Vebba  smiled,  for  he  liked  the  sentiment,  and  the  tone 
and  air  of  the  young  knight  pleased  his  rough  mind, 
despite  his  prejudices  against  the  stranger. 

Encouraged  by  the  smile,  Mallet  seated  himself  on  the 
corner  of  the  long  table  that  skirted  the  room,  and  with 
a  debonnair  gesture  invited  Vebba  to  do  the  same  ;  then 
looking  at  him  gravely,  lie  resumed,  — 

"  So  frank  and  courteous  thou  art,  Sir  Envoy,  that  I 
yet  intrude  on  thee  my  ignorant  and  curious  questions." 

"  Speak  out,  Norman." 

"  How  comes  it,  then,  that  you  English  so  love  this 
Earl  Godwin  ?  —  Still  more,  why  think  you  it  right  and 
proper  that  King  P^dward  should  love  him  too  1  It  is  a 
question  I  have  often  asked,  and  to  whicli  T  am  not  likely 
in    these    halls  to  get    answer  satisfactory.     If    I   know 


HAROLD,  95 

auo-ht  of  yo'^ir  troublous  history,  this  same  earl  has 
changed  sides  oft  eno' ;  first  for  the  Saxon,  then  for 
Canute  the  Dane:  Canute  dies,  and  your  friend  takes  up 
arms  for  the  Saxon  again.  He  yields  to  the  advice  of 
your  Witan,  and  sides  with  Hardicanute  and  Harold,  the 
Danes,  —  a  letter,  nathless,  is  written  as  from  Emma,  the 
mother  to  the  young  Saxon  princes,  Edward  and  Alfred, 
inviting  them  over  to  England,  and  promising  aid  ;  the 
saints  protect  Edward,  who  continues  to  say  aves  in 
^N'ormandy,  —  Alfred  comes  over,  Earl  Godwin  meets 
him,  and,  unless  belied,  does  him  homage,  and  swears  to 
him  faith.  Nay,  listen  yet.  This  Godwin,  whom  ye 
love  so,  then  leads  Alfred  and  his  train  to  the  ville  of 
Guildford,  I  think  ye  call  it  —  fair  quarters  enow.  At 
the  dead  of  the  night  rush  in  King  Harold's  men,  seize 
prince  and  follower,  six  hundred  men  in  all ;  and  next 
morning,  saving  only  every  tenth  man,  they  are  tortured 
and  put  to  death.  The  prince  is  borne  off  to  London,  and 
shortly  afterwards  his  eyes  are  torn  out  in  the  Islet  of 
Ely,  and  he  dies  of  the  anguish  !  Tliat  ye  should  love 
Earl  Godwin  withal  may  be  strange,  but  yet  possible. 
But  is  it  possible,  cher  Envoy,  for  the  king  to  love  the 
man  who  thus  betrayed  his  brother  to  the  shambles  1 " 

"  All  this  is  a  JSTorman  fable,"  said  the  Thegn  of  Kent," 
with  a  disturbed  visage  ;  "  and  Godwin  cleared  himself  on 
oath  of  all  share  in  the  foul  murder  of  Alfred." 

"  The  oath,  I  have  heard,  was  backed,"  said  the  knight, 
dryly,  "by  a  present  to  Hardicanute,  who,  after  the 
death  of  King  Harold,  resolved  to  avenge  the  black 
butchery  ;  a  present,  I  say,  of  a  gilt  ship  manned  by 
four-score  warriors,  with  gold-hilted  swords  and  gilt 
helms.  —  But  let  this  pass." 

"  Let  it  pass,"  echoed  Vebba,  with  a  sigh.  "  Bloody 
were  those  times,  and  unholy  their  secrets." 


96  HAROLD. 

"Yet,  answer  me  still,  why  love  ynu  Earl  Godwin'? 
He  hath  changed  sides  from  party  to  party,  and  in  each 
change  won  lordships  and  lands.  He  is  amhitious  and 
grasping,  ye  all  allow ;  for  the  hallads  sung  in  your 
streets  liken  him  to  the  thorn  and  the  hramble,  at  which 
the  sheep  leaves  his  avooL  He  is  haughty  and  overbear- 
ing Tell  me,  0  Saxon,  frank  Saxon,  why  you  love 
Godwin  the  Earl?  Fain  would  I  kiiow  ;  for,  ])lease  the 
saints  (and  you  and  your  earl  so  permitting),  I  mean  to 
live  and  die  in  this  merrie  England  ;  and  it  woulil  be 
pleasant  to  learn  that  I  have  but  to  do  as  Earl  Godwin  in 
order  to  win  love  from  the  English." 

The  stout  A^ebba  looked  perplexed  ;  but  after  stroking 
his  beard  thoughtfully,  he  answered  thus,  — 

"  Thougli  of  Kent,  and  therefore  in  his  earldom,  I  am 
not  one  of  Godwin's  especial  party  ;  for  that  reason  was 
I  chosen  his  bode.  Those  who  are  under  him  doubtle.ss 
love  a  chief  liberal  to  give  and  strong  to  protect.  The  old 
age  of  a  great  leader  gathers  reverence,  as  an  oak  gathers 
moss.  But  to  me,  and  those  like  me,  living  ])eaceful  at 
home,  shunning  courts,  and  tempting  not  broils,  Godwin 
the  man  is  not  dear  —  it  is  Godwin  the  thing" 

"  Though  I  do  my  best  to  know  your  language,"  said 
the  knight,  "  ye  have  phrases  that  miglit  puzzle  King 
Solomon.     What  meanest  thou  by  '  Godwin  the  thing'  1" 

"That  which  to  us  Godwin  only  seems  to  uphold. 
We  love  justice  ;  whatever  his  offences,  Godwin  was 
banished  unjustly.  We  love  our  laws  ;  Godwin  was  dis- 
honored by  maintaining  them.  We  love  England,  and 
are  devoured  by  strangers  ;  Godwin's  cause  is  England's, 
and  — '  stranger,  forgive  me  for  not  concluding." 

Then,  examining  the  young  Norman  with  a  look  of 
rough  compassion,  he  laid  his  large  hand  u[)on  the 
knight's  shoulder  and  whispered,  — 


HAKOLD.  97 

"  Take  my  advice  —  and  fly." 

"  Fly  ! "  said  De  Graville,  reddening.  "  Is  it  to  fly, 
think  you,  that  I  have  put  on  my  mail,  and  girded  my 
sword  ? " 

"  Vain  —  vain  !  Wasps  are  fierce,  but  the  swarm  is 
doomed  when  the  straw  is  kindled.  I  tell  you  this,  — 
fly  in  time,  and  you  are  safe  ;  but  let  the  king  be  so  mis- 
guided as  to  count  on  arms,  and  strive  against  yon  multi- 
tude, and  verily  before  nightfall  not  one  iS^orman  will  be 
found  alive  within  ten  miles  of  the  city.  Look  to  it, 
youth  !  Perhaps  thou  hast  a  mother,  —  let  her  not 
mourn  a  son !  " 

Before  the  Norman  could  shape  into  Saxon  sufhciently 
polite  and  courtly  his  profound  and  indignant  disdain  of 
the  counsel,  his  sense  of  the  impertinence  with  which  his 
shoulder  had  been  profaned,  and  his  mother's  son  had 
been  warned,  the  nuncuis  was  again  summoned  into  the 
presence-chamber.  Nor  did  he  return  into  the  anteroom, 
but  conducted  forthwith  from  the  council  —  his  brief 
answer  received  —  to  the  stairs  of  the  palace,  he  reached 
the  boat  in  which  he  had  come,  and  was  rowed  back  to 
the  ship  that  held  the  earl  and  his  sons. 

Now  tliis  was  the  manoeuvre  of  Godwin's  array.  His 
vessels,  having  passed  London  Bridge,  had  rested  awhile 
on  the  banks  of  the  southward  suburb  (Southweorde),  — 
since  called  South wark,  —  and  the  king's  ships  lay  to  the 
north ;  but  the  fleet  of  the  earl's  after  a  brief  halt,  veered 
majestically  round,  and  coming  close  to  the  palace  of 
Westminster,  inclined  northward,  as  if  to  hem  the  king's 
ships.  Meanwhile  the  land  forces  drew  up  close  to  the 
Strand,  almost  within  bow-shot  of  the  king's  troops,  that 
kept  the  ground  inland  :  thus  Vebba  saw  before  him,  so 
near  as  scarcely  to  be  distinguished  from  each  other,  on  the 
river  the  rival  fleets,  on  the  shore  the  rival  armaments. 

VOL.  I.  —  7 


98  HAROLD. 

High  above  all  the  vessels  towered  the  majestic  bark, 
or  iesca,  that  had  borne  Harold  from  the  Irish  shores. 
Its  fashion  was  that  of  the  ancient  sea-kings,  to  one  of 
whom  it  had  belonged.  Its  curved  and  mighty  prow, 
richly  gilded,  stood  out  far  above  the  waves  :  the  prow, 
the  head  of  the  sea-snake,  the  stern  its  spire  ;  head  and 
spire  alike  ghttering  in  the  sun. 

The  boat  drew  up  to  the  lofty  side  of  the  vessel,  a 
ladder  was  lowered,  the  nuncius  ascended  lightly  and 
stood  on  deck.  At  the  farther  end  grouped  the  sailors, 
few  in  number,  and  at  respectful  distance  from  the  earl 
and  his  sons. 

Godwin  himself  was  but    half-armed.     His    head  was 
bare,  nor  had  he  other  weapon   of  offence   than  the  gilt 
battle-axe  of  the  Danes,  —  weapon  as  much  of  office  as 
of  war ;  but  his  broad  breast  was  covered  with  the  ring- 
mail  of   the  time.     His  stature  was  lower  than  that  of 
any  of  his  sons  ;  nor  did  his  form  exhibit  greater  physi- 
cal strength  than  tliat  of  a  man,  well-shaped,  robust,  and 
deep  of  chest,  who  still   preserved  in  age  the  pith  and 
sinew  of  mature  manhood.     ISTeither,  indeed,  did  legend 
or  fame  ascribe  to  that  eminent  personage  those  romantic 
achievements,  those  feats  of  purely  animal  prowess,  which 
distinguished  his  rival  Siward.     Brave  he  was,  but  brave 
as  a  leader  ;  those  faculties  in  which  he  appears  to  have 
excelled  all  his  contemporaries  were  more  analogous  to 
the  requisites  of   success  in  civilized    times,  than  those 
which  won  renown  of  old.     And  perhaps  England  was 
the  only  country  then  in  Europe  which  could  have  given 
to  those  faculties  their  fitting  career.     He  possessed  essen- 
tially the  arts  of  party  ;  he  knew  how  to  deal  with  vast 
masses  of  mankind  ;  he  could  carry  along  with  his  inter- 
ests the  fervid  heart  of  the  multitude;    he  had    in  the 
highest  degree  that  gift,  useless  in  most  other  lands,  — 


HAROLD.  99 

in  all  lands  where  popular  assemblies  do  not  exist,  —  the 
gift  of  popular  eloquence.  Ages  elapsed,  after  the  Nor- 
man conquest,  ere  eloquence  again  became  a  power  in 
Encfland.^ 

But  like  all  men  renowned  for  eloquence,  he  went  with 
the  popular  feeling  of  his  times ;  he  embodied  its  pas- 
sions, its  prejudices;  but  also  that  keen  sense  of  self- 
interest,  which  is  the  invariable  characteristic  of  a 
multitude.  He  ivas  the  sense  of  the  commonalty  carried 
to  its  highest  degree.  Whatever  the  faults,  it  may  be 
the  crimes,  of  a  career  singularly  prosperous  and  splendid, 
amidst  events  the  darkest  and  most  terrible,  —  shining 
with  a  steady  light  across  the  thunder-clouds,  —  he  was 
never  accused  of  cruelty  or  outrage  to  the  mass  of  the 
people.  English,  emphatically,  the  English  deemed  him  ; 
and  this  not  the  less  that  in  his  youth  he  had  sided  wdth 
Canute,  and  owed  his  fortunes  to  that  king ;  for  so 
intermixed  were  Danes  and  Saxons  in  England,  that  the 
agreement  which  had  given  to  Canute  one  half  the  king- 
dom, had  been  received  with  general  applause  :  and  the 
earlier  severities  of  that  great  prince  had  been  so  re- 
deemed in  his  later  years  by  wisdom  and  mildness,  — so, 
even  in  the  worst  period  of  his  reign,  relieved  by  extra- 
ordinary personal  affability,  and  so  lost  now  in  men's 
memories  by  pride  in  his  power  and  fame,  —  that  Canute 
had  left  behind  him  a  beloved  and  honored  name,^  and 
Godwin  was  the  more  esteemed  as  the  chosen  counsellor  of 

^  When  the  chronicler  praises  the  ,e;ift  of  speech,  he  uncon- 
sciously proves  the  existence  of  constitutional  freedom. 

2  Recent  Danish  historians  have  in  vain  endeavored  to  detract 
from  the  reputation  of  Canute  as  an  Enr/hsh  monarch.  Tlie  Danes 
are,  doubtless,  the  best  authorities  for  his  character  in  Denmark. 
But  our  own  English  authorities  are  sufficiently  decisive  as  to  the 
personal  popularity  of  Canute  in  this  country,  and  the  affection 
entertained  for  his  laws. 


100  HAKOLD. 

that  popular  prince.  At  his  death,  Godwin  was  known 
to  have  wished,  and  even  armed,  for  the  restoration  of 
the  Saxon  line  ;  and  only  yielded  to  the  determination  of 
the  Witan,  no  doubt  acted  upon  by  the  popular  opinion. 
Of  one  dark  crime  he  was  suspected  ;  and,  despite  his 
oath  to  the  contrary,  and  the  formal  acquittal  of  the 
national  council,  doubt  of  his  guilt  rested  then,  as  it  rests 
still,  upon  his  name,  —  namely,  the  perfidious  surrender 
of  Alfred,  Edward's  murdered  brother. 

But  time  had  passed  over  the  dismal  tragedy  ;  and 
there  was  an  instinctive  and  prophetic  feeling  through- 
out the  English  nation,  that  with  the  house  of  Godwin 
was  identified  the  cause  of  the  English  people.  Every- 
thing in  this  man's  aspect  served  to  plead  in  his  favor. 
His  ample  brows  were  calm  with  benignity  and  thought  ; 
his  large,  dark-blue  eyes  were  serene  and  mild,  though 
their  expression,  when  examined,  was  close  and  inscrut- 
able. His  mien  was  singularly  noble,  but  wholly  with- 
out formality  or  affected  state ;  and  though  haughtiness 
and  arrogance  were  largely  attributed  to  him,  they  could 
be  found  only  in  his  deeds,  not  manner :  plain,  familiar, 
kindly  to  all  men,  his  heart  seemed  as  open  to  the 
service  of  his  countrymen  as  his  hospitable  door  to  their 
wants. 

Behind  him  stood  the  stateliest  group  of  sons  that  ever 
filled  with  pride  a  father's  eye,  each  strikingly  distin- 
guished from  the  other,  all  remarkable  for  beauty  of 
countenance  and  strength  of  frame. 

Sweyn,  the  eldest,^  had  the  dark  hues  of  his  mother, 

1  Some  of  our  historians  erroneously  represent  Harold  as  tlie 
eldest  son.  But  Florence,  the  best  authority  we  have,  in  the 
silence  of  the  "  Saxon  Chronicle,"  as  well  as  Knyj^hton,  distinctly 
states  Sweyn  to  be  the  eldest ;  Harold  was  the  second,  and  Tostig 
was  the  third.  Sweyn's  seniority  seems  corroborated  by  the 
greater  importance  of  his  earldom.     The  Norman  chroniclers,  in 


HAROLD.  ,         101 

the  Dane :  a  wild  and  mournful  majesty  sat  upon  features 
aquiline  and  regular,  but  wasted  by  grief  or  passion; 
raven  locks,  glossy  even  in  neglect,  fell  half  over  eyes 
hollow  in  their  sockets,  but  bright,  though  with  troubled 
lire.  Over  his  shoulder  he  bore  his  mighty  axe.  His 
form,  spare  but  of  immense  power,  was  sheathed  in  mail, 
and  he  leaned  on  his  great  pointed  Danish  shield.  At  his 
feet  sat  his  young  son  Haco,  a  boy  with  a  countenance 
preternaturally  thoughtful  for  his  years,  which  were  yet 
those  of  childhood. 

Next  to  him  stood  the  most  dreaded  and  ruthless  of 
the  sons  of  Godwin,  —  he,  fated  to  become  to  the  Saxon 
what  Julian  was  to  the  Goth.  With  his  arms  folded  on 
his  breast  stood  Tostig ;  his  face  was  beautiful  as  a 
Greek's  in  all  save  the  forehead,  which  was  low  and 
lowering.  Sleek  and  trim  were  his  bright  chestnut  locks ; 
and  his  arms  were  damascened  with  silver,  for  he  was  one 
who  loved  the  pomp  and  luxury  of  war. 

Wolnoth,  the  mother's  favorite,  seemed  yet  in  the  first 
flower  of  youth,  but  he  alone  of  all  the  sons  had  some- 
thing irresolute  and  efleminate  in  his  aspect  and  bearing ; 
his  form,  though  tall,  had  not  yet  come  to  its  full  height 
and  strength  ;  and  as  if  the  weight  of  mail  were  unusual 
to  him,  he  leaned  with  both  hands  upon  the  wood  of  his 
long  spear.  Leofwine,  who  stood  next  to  Wolnoth,  con- 
trasted him  notably  ;  his  sunny  locks  wreathed  carelessly 
over  a  white,  unclouded  brow,  and  the  silken  hair  on  the 
upper  lip  quivered  over  arch  lips,  smiling  even  in  that 
serious  hour, 

their  spite  to  Harold,  wish  to  make  him  iunior  to  Tostig  —  for  the 
reasons  evident  at  the  close  of  this  work.  And  the  Norwegian 
chronicler,  Snorro  Sturleson,  says  that  Harold  was  the  youngest  of 
all  the  sons ;  so  little  was  really  known,  or  cared  to  be  accurately 
known,  of  that  great  house  which  so  nearly  founded  a  new  dynasty 
of  English  kings. 


102  HAROLD. 

At  Godwin's  right  hand,  but  not  immediately  near  him, 
stood  the  last  of  the  group,  Gurth  and  Harold.  Gurth 
had  passed  his  arm  over  the  shoulder  of  his  brother,  and, 
not  watching  the  nuncius  while  he  spoke,  watched  only 
the  efi'ect  his  words  produced  on  the  face  of  Harold.  For 
Gurth  loved  Harold  as  Jonathan  loved  David.  And 
Harold  was  the  only  one  of  the  group  not  armed  ;  and 
had  a  veteran  skilled  in  war  been  asked  who  of  that 
group  was  born  to  lead  armed  men,  he  Avould  have  pointed 
to  the  man  v;narmed. 

"  So  what  says  the  king  1 "  asked  Earl  Godwin. 

"  This  :  he  refuses  to  restore  thee  and  thy  sons,  or  to 
hear  thee,  till  thou  hast  disbanded  thine  army,  dismissed 
thy  ships,  and  consented  to  clear  thyself  and  thy  house 
before  the  Witanagemot." 

A  fierce  laugh  broke  from  Tostig ;  Sweyn's  mournful 
brow  grew  darker ;  Leofwine  placed  his  right  hand  on 
his  ategliar ;  Wolnoth  rose  erect ;  Gurth  kept  his  eyes  on 
Harold,  and  Harold's  face  was  unmoved. 

"  The  king  received  thee  in  his  council  of  war,"  said 
Godwin,  thoughtfully,  "  and  doubtless  the  Normans  were 
there.      Who  were  the  Englishmen  most  of  mark  ?" 

"  Siward  of  Northumbria,  thy  foe." 

"  My  sons,"  said  the  earl,  turning  to  his  children,  and 
breathing  loud  as  if  a  load  -weve  off  his  heart,  "  there  will 
be  no  need  of  axe  or  armor  to-day.  Harold  alone  was 
wise,"  and  he  pointed  to  the  linen  tunic  of  the  sou  thus 
cited. 

"  What  mean  you.  Sir  Father  1 "  said  Tostig,  imperi- 
ously.    "Think  you  to  —  " 

"  Peace,  son,  peace,"  said  Godwin,  without  asperity, 
but  with  conscious  command.  "  Return,  brave  and  dear 
friend,"  he  said  to  Vebba,  "  find  out  Siward  the  earl ; 
tell  him  that  I,  Godwin,  his  foe  in  the  old  time,  place 


HAROLD.  103 

honor  and  life  in  his  hands,  and  what  he  counsels  that 
will  we  do.  —  Go," 

The  Kentman  nodded,  and  regained  his  boat.  Then 
spoke  Harold. 

"  Father,  yonder  are  the  forces  of  Edward  ;  as  yet 
without  leaders,  since  the  chiefs  must  be  still  in  the  halls 
of  the  king.  Some  fiery  Norman  amongst  them  may 
provoke  an  encounter  ;  and  this  city  of  London  is  not 
won,  as  it  behoves  us  to  win  it,  if  one  drop  of  English 
blood  dye  the  sword  of  one  Englishman.  Wherefore, 
with  your  leave,  I  will  take  boat  and  land.  And  unless 
I  have  lost  in  my  absence  all  right  lere  in  the  hearts  of 
our  countrymen,  at  the  first  shout  from  our  troops  which 
proclaims  that  Harold,  son  of  Godwin,  is  on  the  soil  of 
our  fathers,  half  yon  array  of  spears  and  helms  pass  at 
once  to  our  side." 

"  And  if  not,  my  vain  brother  ?  "  said  Tostig,  gnawing 
his  lip  with  envy. 

"  And  if  not,  I  will  ride  alone  into  the  midst  of  them, 
and  ask  what  Englishmen  are  there  who  will  aim  shaft  or 
spear  at  this  breast,  never  mailed  against  England  ! " 

Godwin  placed  his  hand  on  Harold's  head,  and  the  tears 
came  to  those  close,  cold  eyes. 

"Thou  knowest  by  nature  what  I  have  learned  by  art. 
Go,  and  prosper.     Be  it  as  thou  wilt." 

"  He  takes  thy  post,  Sweyn,  —  thou  art  the  elder,"  said 
Tostig  to  the  wild  form  by  his  side. 

"  There  is  guilt  on  my  soul,  and  woe  in  my  heart," 
answered  Sweyn,  moodily.  "  Shall  Esau  lose  his  birth- 
right, and  Cain  retain  iti"  So  saying,  he  withdrew,  and, 
reclining  against  the  stern  of  the  vessel,  leaned  his  face 
upon  the  edge  of  his  shield. 

Harold  watched  him  with  deep  compassion  in  his  eyes, 
passed  to  his  side  with  a  quick  step,  pressed  his  hand,  and, 
■whisneredj  "  Peace  to  the  past,  0  my  brother !  " 


104  HAROLD. 

The  boy  Haco,  who  had  noiselessly  followed  his  father, 
lifted  his  sombre,  serious  looks  to  Harold  as  he  thus  spoke  ; 
and  when  Harold  turned  away,  he  said  to  Sweyn,  timidly, 
"Zfe,  at  least,  is  ever  good  to  thee  and  to  me." 

"  And  thou,  when  I  am  no  more,  shalt  cling  to  him  as 
thy  father,  Haco,"  answered  Sweyn,  tenderly  smoothing 
back  the  child's  dark  locks. 

The  boy  shivered  ;  and,  bending  his  head,  murmured 
to  himself,  "  When  thou  art  no  more  !  no  more  !  Has 
the  Vala  doomed  Imn,  too?     Father  and  son,  both?" 

Meanwhile,  Harold  had  entered  the  boat  lowered  from 
the  sides  of  the  tesca  to  receive  him  ;  and  Gurth,  looking 
appealingly  to  his  father,  and  seeing  no  sign  of  dissent, 
sprang  down  after  the  young  earl,  and  seated  himself  by 
his  side. 

Godwin  followed  the  boat  with  musing  eyes. 

"  Small  need,"  said  he  aloud,  but  to  himself,  "  to 
believe  in  soothsayers,  or  to  credit  Hilda  the  saga,  when 
she  prophesied,  ere  we  left  our  shores,  that  Harold  — " 
He  stopped  short,  for  Tostig's  wrathful  exclamation 
broke  on  his  reverie. 

"  Father,  father  !  My  blood  surges  in  my  ears,  and 
boils  in  my  heart,  when  I  hear  thee  name  the  prophecies 
of  Hilda  in  favor  of  thy  darling.  Dissension  and  strife 
in  our  house  have  they  wrought  already  ;  and  if  the  feuds 
between  Harold  and  me  have  sown  gray  in  thy  locks, 
thank  thyself  when,  flushed  with  vain  soothsayings  for 
thy  favored  Harold,  thou  saidst,  in  the  hour  of  our  first 
childish  broil,  '  Strive  not  with  Harold  ;  for  his  brothers 
will  be  his  men.'  " 

"  Falsify  the  prediction,"  said  Godwin,  calmly  ;  "  wise 
men  may  always  make  their  own  future,  and  seize  their 
own  fates.  Prudence,  patience,  labor,  valor  ;  these  are 
the  stars  that  rule  the  career  of  mortals." 


HAROLD.  105 

Tostig  made  no  answer,  for  tlie  splash  of  oars  was 
near,  and  two  ships,  containing  the  principal  chiefs  that 
had  joined  Godwin's  cause,  came  alongside  the  Runic 
sesca  to  hear  the  result  of  the  message  sent  to  the  king. 
Tostig  sprang  to  the  vessel's  side,  and  exclaimed,  "  Tlie 
king,  girt  by  his  false  counsellors,  will  hear  us  not,  and 
arms  must  decide  between  us." 

"Hold,  hold!  malignant,  unhappy  boy  !"  cried  God- 
win, between  his  grinded  teeth,  as  a  shout  of  indignant, 
yet  joyous  ferocity,  broke  from  the  crowded  ships  thus 
hailed.  "  The  curse  of  all  time  be  on  him  who  draws 
the  first  native  blood  in  sight  of  the  altars  and  hearths 
of  London  !  Hear  me,  thou  with  the  vulture's  blood- 
lust,  and  the  peacock's  vain  joy  in  the  gaudy  plume  ! 
Hear  me,  Tostig,  and  trenable.  If  but  by  one  word  thou 
widen  the  breach  between  me  and  the  king,  outlaw  thou 
enterest  England,  outlaw  shalt  thou  depart,  —  for  earldom 
and  broad  lands,  choose  the  bread  of  the  stranger,  and 
the  weregeld  of  the  wolf  !  " 

The  young  Saxon,  haughty  as  he  was,  quailed  at  his 
father's  thrilling  voice,  bowed  his  head,  and  retreated 
sullenly.  Godwin  sprang  on  the  deck  of  the  nearest 
vessel,  and  all  the  passions  that  Tostig  had  aroused  he 
exerted  his  eloquence  to  appease. 

In  the  midst  of  his  arguments  there  rose  from  the 
ranks  on  the  strand  the  shout  of  "  Harold  !  Harold  the 
Earl !  Harold  and  Holy  Crosse  !  "  And  Godwin,  turning 
his  eye  to  the  king's  ranks,  saw  them  agitated,  swayed, 
and  moving ;  till  suddenly  from  the  very  heart  of  tlie 
hostile  array  came,  as  by  irresistible  impulse,  the  cry, 
"  Harold,  our  Harold  !     All  hail,  the  good  earl  ! " 

While  tliis  chanced  without,  —  within  the  palace, 
Edward  had  quitted  the  presence-chamber,  and  was 
closeted  with  Stigand,  the  bishop.     This  prelate  had  the 


106  HAROLD. 

more  influence  witli  Edward,  inasmuch  as,  though  Saxon, 
he  was  held  to  be  no  enemy  to  the  Normans,  and  had, 
indeed,  on  a  former  occasion,  been  deposed  from  his 
bishopric  on  the  charge  of  too  great  an  attacliraent  to  the 
Norman  queen-mother  Emma.-'  Never  in  his  whole  life 
had  Edward  been  so  stubborn  as  on  this  occasion  ;  for 
here  more  than  his  realm  was  concerned,  —  he  was 
threatened  in  the  peace  of  his  household,  and  the  comfort 
of  his  tepid  friendships.  With  the  recall  of  his  powerful 
father-in-law,  he  foresaw  the  necessary  reintrusion  of  his 
wife  upon  the  charm  of  his  chaste  solitude.  His  favorite 
Normans  would  be  banished,  he  should  be  surrounded 
with  faces  he  abhorred.  All  the  representations  of 
Stigand  fell  upon  a  stern  and  unyielding  spirit,  when 
Siward  entered  the  king's  closet. 

"  Sir,  my  king,"  said  the  great  son  of  Beorn,  "  I  yielded 
to  your  kingly  will  in  the  council,  that,  before  we  lis- 
tened to  Godwin,  he  should  disband  his  men,  and  submit 
to  the  judgment  of  the  Witan.  The  earl  hath  sent  to 
me  to  say  that  he  will  put  honor  and  life  in  my  keeping, 
and  abide  by  my  counsel ;  and  I  have  answered  as 
became  the  man  who  will  never  snare  a  foe  or  betray  a 
trust." 

"  How  hast  thou  answered  ? "  asked  the  king. 

"  That  he  abide  liy  the  laws  of  England,  as  Dane  and 
Saxon  agreed  to  abide  in  the  days  of  Canute  ;  that  he 
and  his  sons  shall  make  no  claim  for  land  or  lordship,  but 
submit  all  to  the  Witan." 

"  Good,"  said  the  king  ;  "  and  the  Witan  will  condemn 

1  "  An<!^lo-Saxon  Chronicle,"  a.  n.  1043.  "Stigand  was  deposed 
from  his  bishopric,  and  all  that  he  possessed  was  seized  into  the 
king's  hands,  because  he  was  received  to  his  mother's  counsel,  and 
she  went  just  as  he  advised  her,  as  people  thought  "  I'he  saintly  con- 
fessor dealt  with  his  bisliops  as  summarily  as  Henry  VIII.  could 
have  done  after  his  qu:u-rel  with  the  Pope, 


HAROLD.  107 

him  now,  as  it  would  have  condemned  when  he  shunned 
to  meet  it  1 " 

"  And  the  "Witan  now,"  returned  the  earl,  emphatically, 
"  will  be  free,  and  fair,  and  just." 

"And  meanwhile  the  troops  —  " 

"  Will  wait  on  either  side  ;  and  if  reason  fail,  then  the 
sword,"  said  Siward. 

"  This  I  will  not  hear,"  exclaimed  Edward ;  when  the 
tramp  of  many  feet  thundered  along  the  passage ;  the 
door  was  flung  open,  and  several  captains  (I^orman  as 
well  as  Saxon)  of  the  king's  troops  rushed  in,  wild,  rude, 
and  tumultuous. 

"The  troops  desert !  half  their  ranks  have  thrown  down 
their  arms  at  the  very  name  of  Harold  ! "  exclaimed  the 
Earl  of  Hereford.      "  Curses  on  the  knaves  !  " 

'*  And  their  lithsmen  of  London,"  cried  a  Saxon  thegn, 
"  are  all  on  his  side,  and  marching  already  through  the 
gates." 

"  Pause  yet,"  whispered  Stigand  ;  "  and  who  shall  say, 
this  hour  to-morrow,  if  Edward  or  Godwin  reign  on  the 
throne  of  Alfred?" 

His  stern  heart  moved  by  the  distress  of  his  king,  and 
not  the  less  for  the  unwonted  firmness  which  Edward  dis- 
played, Siward  here  approached,  knelt,  and  took  the 
king's  hand. 

"  Siward  can  give  no  niddering  counsel  to  his  king  ; 
to  save  the  blood  of  his  subjects  is  never  a  king's  dis- 
grace.    Yield  thou  to  mercy,  —  Godwin  to  the  law  !  " 

"  Oh  for  the  cowl  and  cell !  "  exclaimed  the  prince, 
wringing  his  hands.  "  Oh  Norman  home,  why  did  I 
leave  thee?" 

He  took  the  cross  from  his  breast,  contemplated  it 
fixedly,  prayed  silently  but  with  fervor,  and  his  face 
again  became  tranquil. 


103  HAROLD. 

"  Go,"  he  said,  flinging  himself  on  his  seat  in  the 
exhaustion  that  follows  passion,  —  "  Go,  Sivvard,  go,  Sti- 
gand,  deal  with  things  mundane  as  ye  will." 

The  bishop,  satisfied  with  this  reluctant  acquiescence, 
seized  Siward  by  the  arm  and  withdrew  him  from  tlie 
closet.  The  captains  remained  a  few  moments  behind, 
the  Saxons  silently  gazing  on  the  king,  the  ISTormans 
whispering  each  other  in  great  doubt  and  trouble,  and 
darting  looks  of  the  bitterest  scorn  at  their  feeble  bene- 
factor. Then,  as  with  one  accord,  these  last  rushed  along 
the  corridor,  gained  the  hall  where  their  countrymen  yet 
assembled,  and  exclaimed,  "A  toute  bride  f  Franc  etrier! 

—  All  is  lost  but  life  !  —  God  for  the  first  man,  —  knife 
and  cord  for  the  last !  " 

Then,  as  the  cry  of  fire,  or  as  the  first  crash  of  an 
earthquake,  dissolves  all  union,  and  reduces  all  emotion 
into  one  thought  of  self-saving,  the  whole  conclave, 
crowding  pell-mell  on  each  other,  bustled,  jostled,  clam- 
ored to  the  door  :  happy  he  who  could  find  horse,  palfrey, 

—  even  monk's  mule  !  This  way,  that  way,  fled  those 
lordly  Normans,  those  martial  abbots,  those  mitred  bishops, 

—  some  singly,  some  in  pairs  ;  some  by  tens,  and  some 
by  scores  :  but  all  prudently  shunning  association  with 
those  chiefs  whom  they  had  most  courted  the  day  before, 
and  who,  they  now  knew,  would  be  the  main  mark  for 
revenge  ;  save  only  two,  who  yet,  from  that  awe  of  the 
spiritual  power  which  characterized  the  I^orman,  who  was 
already  half  monk,  half  soldier  (Crusader  and  Templar 
before  Crusades  were  yet  preached  or  the  Templars  yet 
dreamed  of),  even  in  that  hour  of  selfish  panic  rallied 
round  them  the  prowest  chivalry  of  their  countrymen,  — 
namely,  the  Bishop  of  London  and  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury.  Both  these  dignitaries,  armed  cap-a-pie,  and 
spear  in  hand,  headed  the  flight ;  and  good  service  that 


HAROLD.  109 

day,  both  as  guide  and  champion,  did  Mallet  de  Graville, 
He  led  them  in  a  circuit  behind  both  armies,  but  being 
intercepted  by  a  new  body,  coming  from  the  pastures  of 
Hertfordshire  to  the  help  of  Godwin,  he  was  compelled 
to  take  the  bold  and  desperate  resort  of  entering  the  city 
gates.  These  were  wide  open ;  whether  to  admit  the 
Saxon  earls,  or  vomit  forth  their  allies,  the  Londoners. 
Through  these,  up  the  narrow  streets,  riding  three  a-breast, 
dashed  the  slaughtering  fugitives-,  worthy  in  flight  of 
their  national  renown,  they  trampled  down  every  obstacle. 
Bodies  of  men  drew  up  against  them  at  every  angle,  with 
the  Saxon  cry  of  "  Out !  —  Out  !  "  "  Down  with  the  out- 
land  men  ! "  Through  each,  spear  pierced  and  sword 
clove  the  way.  Eed  with  gore  was  the  spear  of  the  pre- 
late of  London  ;  broken  to  the  hilt  was  the  sword  militant 
in  the  terrible  hand  of  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury.  So 
on  they  rode,  so  on  they  slaughtered,  —  gained  the  Eastern 
Gate,  and  passed  with  but  two  of  their  number  lost. 

The  fields  once  gained,  for  better  i^recaution  they  sepa- 
rated. Some  few,  not  quite  ignorant  of  the  Saxon  tongue, 
doffed  their  mail,  and  crept  through  forest  and  fell 
towards  the  sea-shore ;  others  retained  steed  and  arms, 
but  shunned  equally  the  high-roads.  The  two  prelates 
were  among  the  last ;  they  gained,  in  safety,  JS'ess,  in 
Essex,  threw  themselves  into  an  open,  crazy  fishing-boat, 
committed  themselves  to  the  waves,  and,  half  drowned 
and  half  famished,  drifted  over  the  Channel  to  the 
French  shores.  Of  the  rest  of  the  courtly  foreigners, 
some  took  refuge  in  the  forts  yet  held  by  their  country- 
men ;  some  lay  concealed  in  creeks  and  caves  till  they 
could  find  or  steal  boats  for  their  passage.  And  thus, 
in  the  year  of  our  Lord  1052,  occurred  the  notable 
dispersion  and  ignominious  fliglit  of  the  counts  and 
vavasours  of  great  William  the  Duke  ! 


110  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER   III. 

The  Witanagemot  was  assembled  in  the  Great  Hall  of 
Westminster  in  all  its  imperial  pomp. 

It  was  on  his  throne  that  the  king  sat  now,  —  and  it 
was  the  sword  that  was  in  his  right  hand.  Some  seated 
below,  and  some  standing  beside,  the  throne,  were  the 
officers  of  the  Basileus^  of  Britain.  There,  were  to  be 
seen  camararius  and  pincerna,  chamberlain  and  cup-bearer; 
disc  thegn  and  hors  thegn  :  ^  the  thegn  of  the  dishes,  and 
the  thegn  of  the  stud ;  with  many  more,  whose  state 
offices  may  not  impossibly  have  been  borrowed  from  the 
ceremonial  pomp  of  the  Byzantine  court ;  for  Edgar, 
King  of  England,  had  in  the  old  time  styled  himself  the 
Heir  of  Constantine.  Next  to  these  sat  the  clerks  of  the 
chapel,  with  the  king's  confessor  at  their  head.  Officers 
were  they  of  higher  note  than  their  name  bespeaks,  and 
wielders,  in  the  trust  of  the  Great  Seal,  of  a  power 
unknown  of  old,  and  now  obnoxious  to  the  Saxon.  For 
tedious  is  the  suit  which  lingers  for  the  king's  writ  and 
the  king's  seal  ;  and  from  those  clerks  shall  arise  hereafter 
a  thing  of  torture  and  of  might,  which  shall  grind  out 
the  hearts  of  men,  and  be  called  Chancery.^ 

1  The  title  of  Basileus  was  retained  by  our  kings  so  late  as  the 
time  of  John,  who  styled  himself  "  Totius  Insulae  Britannicae  Basi- 
leus."—  Agard  :  "On  the  antiquity  of  Sliires  in  England,  ap 
Hearne,  Cur.  Disc." 

^  Sharon  Turner. 

3  See  tlie  Introduction  to  Palgrave's  "  History  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxons,"  from  which  this  description  of  the  Witan  is  borrowed  so 


HAROLD.  Ill 

Below  the  scribes,  a  space  was  left  on  the  floor,  and 
farther  down  sat  the  chiefs  of  the  Witan.  Of  these,  first 
in  order,  both  from  their  spiritual  rank  and  their  vast 
temporal  possessions,  sat  the  Lords  of  the  Church ;  the 
chairs  of  the  prelates  of  London  and  Canterbury  were 
void.  But  still  goodly  was  the  array  of  Saxon  mitres, 
with  the  harsh,  hungry,  but  intelligent  face  of  Stigand, 
—  Stigand  the  stout  and  the  covetous ;  and  the  benign 
but  firm  features  of  Aired,  true  priest  and  true  jjatriot, 
distinguished  amidst  all.  Around  each  prelate,  as  stars 
round  a  sun,  were  his  own  special  priestly  retainers, 
selected  from  his  diocese.  Farther  still  down  the  hall  are 
the  great  civil  lords  and  vice-king  vassals  of  the  "  Lord 
Paramount."  Vacant  the  chair  of  the  King  of  the  Scots, 
for  Siward  hath  not  yet  had  his  wish  ;  Macbeth  is  in  his 
fastnesses,  or  listening  to  the  weird  sisters  in  the  wold ; 
and  Malcolm  is  a  fugitive  in  the  halls  of  the  Northum- 
brian earl.  Vacant  the  chair  of  the  hero  Gryffyth,  son  of 
Llewelyn,  the  dread  of  the  marches,  Prince  of  Gwyned, 
whose  arms  had  subjugated  all  Cymry.  But  there  are 
the  lesser  sub-kings  of  Wales,  true  to  the  immemorial 
schisms  amongst  themselves,  which  destroyed  the  realm 
of  Ambrosius,  and  rendered  vain  the  arm  of  Arthur. 
With  their  torques  of  gold,  and  wild  eyes,  and  hair  cut 
round  ears  and  brow,^  they  stare  on  the  scene. 

On  the  same  bench  with  these  sub-kings,  distinguished 
from  them  by  heiglit  of  stature  and  calm  collectedness  of 
mien  no  less  than  by  their  caps  of  maintenance  and  furreil 
robes,  are  those  props  of  strong   thrones  and  terrors  of 

largely  that  I  am  left  without  other  apology  for  the  plagiarism 
than  the  frank  confession,  that  if  I  could  have  found  in  others,  or 
conceived  from  my  own  resources,  a  description  half  as  graphic  and 
half  as  accurate,  I  would  only  have  plagiarized  to  half  the  extent 
I  have  done. 

1  Girald.     Gambrensis. 


112  HAROLD. 

weak,  —  the  earls  to  whom  shires  and  counties  fall,  as 
hyde  and  carricate  to  the  lesser  thegns.  But  three  of 
these  were  tlien  present,  and  all  three  the  foes  of  God- 
win, —  Siward,  Earl  of  Northumbria  ;  Leofric,  of  Mercia, 
(that  Leofric  whose  wife  Godiva  yet  lives  in  ballad  and 
song)  ;  and  Rolf,  Earl  of  Hereford  and  Worcestershire, 
who,  strong  in  his  claim  of  "  king's  blood,"  left  not  the 
court  with  his  Norman  friends.  And  on  the  same 
benches,  though  a  little  apart,  are  the  lesser  earls,  and 
that  higher  order  of  thegns,  called  king's  thegns. 

Not  far  from  these  sat    the  chosen  citizens  from  the 
free    burgh  of    London,  already  of   great  weight  in  the 
senate, 1  —  suihcing  often  to  turn  its  counsels  ;  all  friends 
were  they  of   the  English  earl  and    his  house.     In  the 
same  division  of  the  hall  were  found  the  bulk  and  true 
popular  part  of  the  meeting  ;  popular,  indeed,  as  repre- 
senting not  the  people,  but  the  things  the  people  most 
prized,  —  valor  and  wealth  ;  the  thegn  landowners,  called 
in  the  old  deeds  the  "  Ministers  : "  they  sat  with  swords 
by  their  side,  all  of  varying  birth,  fortune,  and  connec- 
tion, Avhether  with  king,  earl,  or  ceorl ;  for  in  the  differ- 
ent districts  of  the  old  Heptarchy  the  qualification  varied, 
—  high  in  East  Anglia,  low  in  Wessex  ;  so  that  what  was 
wealth  in  the  one  shire  was  poverty  in  the  other.      There 
sat,  half  a  yeoman,  the  Saxon  thegn  of  Berkshire  or  Dor- 
set, proud  of  his  five  hydes  of  land  ;  there,  half  an  earl- 
donian,  the  Danish  thegn  of  Norfolk  or  Ely,  discontented 
with  his  forty  ;  some  were  there  in  right  of  smaller  offices 
under  the  crown  ;  some  traders,  and  sons  of  traders,  for  hav- 
ing crossed  the  high  seas  three  times  at   their  own  risk  ; 

^  Palgrave  omits,  I  presume  accideTitnlly,  these  members  of  the 
AVitan,  but  it  is  clear,  from  the  "  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle,"  that  the 
London  "  lithsmen  "  were  represented  in  the  great  National  Witans, 
and  helped  to  decide  the  election  even  of  kings. 


HAROLD.  113 

some  could  boast  the  blood  of  Offa  and  Egbert ;  and  some 
traced  but  three  generations  back  to  neat-herd  and 
ploughman ;  and  some  were  Saxons,  and  some  were 
Danes  ;  and  some  from  the  western  shires  were  by  origin 
Britons,  though  little  cognizant  of  their  race.  Farther 
down  still,  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  hall,  crowding  by 
the  open  doors,  filling  up  the  space  without,  Avere  the 
ceorls  themselves,  a  vast  and  not  powerless  body :  in 
these  high  courts  (distinct  from  the  shire  gemots,  or  local 
senates),  never  called  upon  to  vote,  or  to  speak,  or  to 
act,  or  even  to  sign  names  to  the  doom,  but  only  to  shout 
"  Yea,  yea,"  when  the  proceres  pronounced  their  sentence. 
Yet  not  powerless  were  they,  but  rather  to  the  Witan 
what  public  opinion  is  to  the  Witan's  successor,  our 
modern  parliament  :  they  wei'e  opinion  !  And  according 
to  their  numbers  and  their  sentiments,  easily  known  and 
boldly  murmured,  often  and  often  must  that  august  court 
of  basileus  and  prelate,  vassal-king  and  mighty  earl,  have 
shaped  the  council  and  adjudged  the  doom. 

And  the  forms  of  the  meeting  had  been  duly  said  and 
done  ;  and  the  king  had  spoken  words,  no  doubt  wary 
and  peaceful,  gracious  and  exhortatory  ;  but  those  words 
—  for  his  voice  that  day  was  weak  —  travelled  not 
beyond  the  small  circle  of  his  clerks  and  his  officers  ; 
and  a  murmur  buzzed  through  the  hall  when  Earl  God- 
win stood  on  the  floor,  with  his  six  sons  at  his  back ;  and 
you  might  have  heard  the  hum  of  the  gnat  that  vexed 
the  smooth  cheek  of  Earl  Rolf,  or  the  click  of  the  spider 
from  the  web  on  the  vaulted  roof,  the  moment  before 
Earl  Godwin  spoke. 

"  If,"  said  he,  with  the  modest  look  and  downcast  eye 
of  practised  eloquence,  —  "if  I  rejoice  once  more  to 
breathe  the  air  of  England,  in  whose  service,  often  per- 
haps  with   faulty   deeds,   but  at  all    times  with  honest 

VOL.  I.  —  8 


114  HAROLD. 

thoughts,  I  have,  both  in  war  and  council,  devoted  so 
much  of  my  life  that  little  now  remains  but  (should  you, 
my  king,  and  you,  prelates,  proceres,  and  ministers  so 
vouchsafe)  to  look  round  and  select  that  spot  of  my 
native  soil  which  shall  receive  my  bones; — if  I  rejoice 
to  stand  once  more  in  that  assembly  which  has  often 
listened  to  my  voice  when  our  common  country  was  in 
peril,  who  here  will  blame  that  joy  't  Who  among  my 
foes,  if  foes  now  I  have,  will  not  respect  the  old  man's 
gladness?  Who  amongst  you,  earls  and  thegns,  would 
not  grieve,  if  his  duty  bade  him  say  to  the  gray-haired 
exile,  '  In  this  English  air  you  shall  not  breathe  your 
last  sigh,  ■ —  on  this  English  soil  you  shall  not  find  a 
grave  1 '  Who  amongst  you  would  not  grieve  to  say 
it  1 "  (Suddenly  he  drew  up  his  head  and  faced  his 
audience.)  "Who  amongst  you  hath  the  courage  and 
the  heart  to  say  it  1  Yes,  I  rejoice  that  I  am  at  last  in 
an  assembly  fit  to  judge  my  cause,  and  pronounce  my 
innocence.  For  what  offence  was  I  outlawed?  For 
what  offence  were  I  and  the  six  sons  I  have  given  to  my 
land  to  bear  the  wolf's  penalty,  and  be  chased  and  slain 
as  the  wild  beasts  ?     Hear  me,  and  answer  ! 

"  Eustace,  Count  of  Boulogne,  returning  to  his  domains 
from  a  visit  to  our  lord  the  king,  entered  the  town  of 
Dover  in  mail  and  on  his  war-steed  ;  his  train  did  the  same. 
Unknowing  our  laws  and  customs  (for  I  desire  to  press 
light  upon  all  old  grievances,  and  will  impute  ill  designs 
to  none),  these  foreigners  invade  by  force  the  private 
dwellings  of  citizens,  and  there  select  their  quarters. 
Ye  all  know  that  this  was  the  strongest  violation  of  Saxon 
right ;  ye  know  that  the  meanest  ceorl  hath  the  proverb 
on  his  lip,  *  Every  man's  house  is  his  castle.'  One  of 
the  townsmen,  acting  on  this  belief,  —  which  I  have  yet 
to  learn  was  a  false  one,  —  expelled  from  his  threshold 


HAROLD.  115 

a  retainer  of  the  French  earl's.  The  stranger  drew  his 
sword  and  wounded  him  ;  blows  followed,  — the  stranger 
fell  by  the  arm  he  had  provoked.  The  news  arrives  to 
Earl  Eustace ;  he  and  his  kinsmen  spur  to  the  spot ;  they 
murder  the  Englishman  on  his  hearthstone  —  " 

Here  a  groan,  half-stifled  and  wrathful,  broke  from  the 
ceorls  at  the  end  of  the  hall.  Godwin  held  up  his  hand 
in  rebuke  of  the  interruption,  and  resumed. 

"  This  deed  done,  the  outlanders  rode  through  the 
streets  with  their  drawn  swords  ;  they  butchered  those 
who  came  in  their  way ;  they  trampled  even  children 
under  their  horses'  feet.  The  burghers  armed.  I  thank 
the  Divine  Father,  who  gave  me  for  my  countrymen 
those  gallant  burghers !  They  fought,  as  we  English 
know  how  to  fight ;  they  slew  some  nineteen  or  score 
of  these  mailed  intruders ;  they  chased  them  from  the 
town.  Earl  Eustace  fled  fast.  Earl  Eustace,  we  know,  is 
a  wise  man  :  small  rest  took  he,  little  bread  broke  he,  till 
he  pulled  rein  at  the  gate  of  Gloucester,  where  my  lord 
the  king  then  held  court.  He  made  his  complaint.  My 
lord  the  king,  naturally  hearing  but  one  side,  thought  the 
burghers  in  the  wrong ;  and,  scandalized  that  such  high 
persons  of  his  own  kith  should  be  so  aggrieved,  he  sent 
for  me,  in  whose  government  the  burgh  of  Dover  is,  and 
bade  me  chastise,  by  military  execution,  those  who  had 
attacked  the  foreign  count.  I  appeal  to  the  great  earls 
whom  I  see  before  me,  —  to  you,  illustrious  Leofric  ;  to 
you,  renowned  Siward,  —  what  value  would  ye  set  on 
your  earldoms,  if  ye  had  not  the  heart  and  the  power  to 
see  right  done  to  the  dwellers  therein  ? 

"  What  was  the  course  I  proposed  1  Instead  of  mar- 
tial execution,  which  would  involve  the  whole  burgh  in 
one  sentence,  I  submitted  that  the  reeve  and  gerefas  of 
the  burgh  should  be  cited  to  appear  before  the  king,  and 


116  HAKOLD, 

account  for  the  broil.  My  lord,  though  ever  most  clem- 
ent and  loving  to  his  good  j^eople,  either  unhappily 
moved  against  me,  or  overswayed  by  the  foreigners,  was 
counselled  to  reject  this  mode  of  doing  justice,  which 
our  laws,  as  settled  under  Edgar  and  Canute,  enjoin.  And 
because  I  would  not  —  and  I  say  in  the  presence  of  all, 
because,  I  Godwin,  son  of  Wolnoth,  durst  not,  if  I  would, 
have  entered  the  free  burgh  of  Dover  with  mail  on  my 
back  and  the  doomsman  at  my  right  hand,  these  outland- 
ers  induced  my  lord  the  king  to  summon  me  to  attend  in 
person  (as  for  a  sin  of  my  own)  the  council  of  the  Witan, 
convened  at  Gloucester,  then  filled  with  the  foreigners, 
not,  as  I  humbly  opined,  to  do  justice  to  me  and  my 
folk  of  Dover,  but  to  secure  to  this  Count  of  Boulogne 
a  triumph  over  English  liberties,  and  sanction  his  scorn 
for  the  value  of  English  lives. 

"  I  hesitated,  and  was  menaced  with  outlawry  ;  I  armed 
in  self-defence,  and  in  defence  of  the  laws  of  England  ;  I 
armed  that  men  might  not  be  murdered  on  their  hearth- 
stones, nor  children  trampled  under  the  hoofs  of  a 
stranger's  war-steed.  My  lord  the  king  gathered  his 
troops  round  *  the  cross  and  the  martlets.'  Yon  noble 
earls,  Siward  and  Leofric,  came  to  that  standard,  as 
(knowing  not  then  my  cause)  was  their  duty  to  the 
Basileus  of  Britain.  But  when  they  knew  my  cause,  and 
saw  with  me  the  dwellers  of  the  land,  against  me  the 
outland  aliens,  they  righteously  interposed.  An  armistice 
was  concluded  ;  I  agreed  to  refer  all  matters  to  a  Witan 
held  where  it  is  held  this  day.  My  troops  were  disbanded  ; 
but  the  foreigners  induced  my  lord  not  only  to  retain  his 
own,  but  to  issue  his  Herrbann  for  the  gathering  of  hosts 
far  and  near,  even  allies  beyond  the  seas.  When  I 
looked  to  London  for  the  peaceful  Witan,  what  saw  I  ? 
The  largest  armament  that  had  been  collected  in  this  reign ; 


HAROLD.  117 

that  armament  headed  by  I^orman  knights.  Was  this 
the  meeting  where  justice  could  be  done  mine  and  me  1 
Nevertheless,  what  was  my  offer  ?  That  I  and  my  six 
sons  would  attend,  provided  the  usual  sureties,  agreeable 
to  our  laws,  from  which  only  thieves^  are  excluded,  were 
given  that  we  should  come  and  go  life-free  and  safe. 
Twice  this  offer  was  made,  twice  refused ;  and  so  I  and 
my  sons  were  banished.     We  went,  —  we  have  returned  !  " 

"  And  in  arms,"  murmured  Earl  Rolf,  son-in-law  to 
that  Count  Eustace  of  Boulogne,  whose  violence  had 
been  temperately  and  truly  narrated.^ 

"  And  in  arms,"  repeated  Godwin  :  "  true,  —  in  arms 
against  the  foreigners  who  had  thus  poisoned  the  ear  of 
our  gracious  king  ;  in  arms,  Earl  Rolf  ;  and  at  the  first 
clash  of  those  arms  Franks  and  foreigners  have  fled.  We 
have  no  need  of  arms  now.  We  are  amongst  our  country- 
men, and  no  Frenchman  interposes  between  us  and  the 
ever  gentle,  ever  generous  nature  of  our  born  king. 

"  Peers  and  proceres,  chiefs  of  this  Witan,  perhaps 
the  largest  ever  yet  assembled  in  man's  memory,  it  is  for 
you  to  decide  whether  I  and  mine,  or  the  foreign  fugitives, 
caused  the  dissension  in  these  realms ;  whether  our  ban- 
ishment was  just  or  not ;  whether  in  our  return  we  have 
abused  the  power  we  possessed.  Ministers,  on  those 
swords  by  your  sides  there  is  not  one  drop  of  blood  !  At 
all  events,  in  submitting  to  you  our  fate,  we  submit  to 
our  own  laws  and  our  own  race.  I  am  here  to  clear 
myself,  on  my  oath,  of  deed  and  thought  of  treason. 
There  are,  amongst  my  peers  as  king's  thegns,  those  who 
"will  attest  the  same  on  my  behalf,  and  prove  the  facts  I 

1  By  Athelstan's  law,  every  man  was  to  have  peace  going  to 
and  from  the  Witan,  unless  he  was  a  thief.  —  Wilkins,  p.  137. 

2  Goda,  Edward's  sister,  married  first  Rolf's  father,  Count  of 
Mantes ;  secondlyj  the  Count  of  Boulogne. 


118  HAROLD. 

have  stated,  if  they  are  not  sufficiently  notorious.  As 
for  my  sons,  no  crime  can  be  alleged  against  them,  unless 
it  be  a  crime  to  have  in  their  veins  that  blood  which 
flows  in  mine,  —  blood  which  they  have  learned  from  me 
to  shed  in  defence  of  that  beloved  land  to  which  they 
now  ask  to  be  recalled." 

The  earl  ceased  and  receded  behind  his  children,  having 
artfully,  by  his  very  abstinence  from  the  more  heated  elo- 
quence imputed  to  him  often  as  a  fault  and  a  wile,  produced 
a  powerful  effect  upon  an  audience  already  prepared  for 
his  acquittal. 

But  now  as  from  the  sons,  Sweyn,  the  eldest,  stepped 
forth,  with  a  wandering  eye  and  uncertain  foot,  there  was 
a  movement  like  a  shudder  amongst  the  large  majority  of 
the  audience,  and  a  murmur  of  hate  or  of  horror. 

The  young  earl  marked  the  sensation  his  presence  pro- 
duced, and  stopped  short.  His  breath  came  thick;  he 
raised  his  right  hand,  but  spoke  not  His  voice  died  on 
his  lips;  his  eyes  roved  wildly  round  with  a  haggard 
stare  more  imploring  than  defying.  Then  rose,  in  his 
episcopal  stole,  Aired  the  bishop,  and  his  clear  sweet 
voice  trembled  as  he  spoke. 

"  Comes  Sweyn,  son  of  Godwin,  here  to  prove  his  inno- 
cence of  treason  against  the  king  1  —  if  so,  let  him  hold 
his  peace  ;  for  if  the  Witan  acquit  Godwin,  son  of  Wol- 
noth,  of  that  charge,  the  acquittal  includes  his  House. 
But,  in  the  name  of  the  holy  Church  here  represented  by 
its  fathers,  will  Sweyn  say,  and  fasten  his  word  by  oath, 
that  he  is  guiltless  of  treason  to  the  King  of  kings,  — 
guiltless  of  sacrilege  that  my  lips  shrink  to  name  ?  Alas, 
that  the  duty  falls  on  me,  —  for  I  loved  thee  once,  and 
love  thy  kindred  now.  But  I  am  God's  servant  before 
all  things  —  "  the  prelate  paused,  and,  gathering  up  new 
energy,    added,  in  unfaltering  accents,    "I    charge   thea 


HAKOLD.  119 

here,  Sweyn,  the  outlaAv,  that,  moA'ecI  by  the  fiend,  thou 
didst  bear  ofi'  from  God's  house  and  violate  a  daughter  of 
the  Church,  —  Algive,  Alibess  of  Leominster  !  " 

"And  I,"  cried  Siward,  rising  to  the  full  height  of  his 
stature,  —  ''  I,  in  the  presence  of  these  proceres,  whose 
proudest  title  is  viilites  or  warriors,  — •  I  charge  Sweyn, 
son  of  Godwin,  that,  not  in  open  field  and  hand  to  hand, 
but  by  felony  and  guile,  he  wrought  the  foul  and  abhor- 
ent  murder  of  his  cousin,  Beorn  the  earl !  " 

At  these  two  charges  from  men  so  eminent,  the  eff'ect 
upon  the  audience  was  startling.  While  those  not 
influenced  by  Godwin  raised  their  eyes,  sparkling  with 
wrath  and  scorn,  upon  the  wasted  3'et  still  noble  face  of 
the  eldest-born  ;  even  those  most  zealous  on  behalf  of  that 
popular  House  evinced  no  sympathy  for  its  heir.  Some 
looked  down  abashed  and  mournful,  —  some  regarded  the 
accused  with  a  cold  unpitying  gaze.  Only  perhaps  among 
the  ceorls,  at  the  end  of  the  hall,  might  be  seen  some 
compassion  on  anxious  faces;  for  before  those  deeds  of 
crime  had  been  bruited  abroad,  none  among  the  sons  of 
Godwin  more  blithe  of  mien  and  bold  of  hand,  more 
honored  and  beloved,  than  Sweyn  the  outlaw.  But  the 
hush  that  succeeded  the  charges  was  appalling  in  its 
depth.  Godwin  himself  shaded  his  face  with  his  mantle, 
and  only  those  close  by  could  see  that  his  breast  heaved 
and  his  limbs  trembled.  The  brothers  had  shrunk  from 
the  side  of  the  accused,  outlawed  even  amongst  his  kin, 
—  all  save  Harold,  who,  strong  in  his  blameless  name  and 
beloved  repute,  advanced  three  strides  amidst  the  silence, 
and,  standing  by  his  brother's  side,  lifted  his  commanding 
brow  above  the  seated  judges,  but  he  did  not  speak. 

Then  said  Sweyn  the  earl,  strengthened  by  such  soli- 
tary companionship  in  that  hostile  assemblage,  —  "I 
might  answer  that  for  these  charges  in  the  past,  for  deeds 


120  HAROLD. 

alleged  as  done  eight  long  years  ago,  I  have  the  king's 
grace,  and  the  inlaw's  right ;  and  that  in  the  Witans  over 
which  I  as  earl  presided  no  man  was  twice  judged  for  the 
same  offence.  That  I  hold  to  be  the  law,  in  the  great 
councils  as  the  small." 

"  It  is  !  it  is  !  "  exclaimed  Godwin,  his  paternal  feel- 
ings conquering  his  prudence  and  his  decorous  dignity. 
"  Hold  to  it,  my  sun  !  " 

"  I  hold  to  it  not,"  resumed  the  young  earl,  casting  a 
haughty  glance  over  the  somewhat  blank  and  disappointed 
faces  of  his  foes,  "  for  my  law  is  Aere,"  and  he  smote 
his  heart,  —  "  and  that  condemns  me  not  once  alone,  but 
evermore  !  Aired,  0  holy  father,  at  whose  knees  I  once 
confessed  my  every  sin,  I  blame  thee  not  that  thou  first, 
in  the  Witan,  liftest  thy  voice  against  me,  though  thou 
knowest  that  I  loved  Algive  from  youth  upward  ;  she, 
with  her  heart  yet  mine,  was  given,  in  the  last  year  of 
Hardicanute,  when  might  was  right,  to  the  Church.  I 
met  her  again,  flushed  with  my  victories  over  the  Wal- 
loon kings,  with  power  in  my  hand  and  passion  in  my 
veins.  Deadly  was  my  sin  !  —  But  what  asked  I  ?  that 
vows  compelled  should  be  annulled  ;  that  the  love  of  my 
youth  might  yet  be  the  wife  of  my  manhood.  Pardon, 
that  I  knew  not  then  how  eternal  are  the  bonds  ye  of 
the  Church  have  woven  round  those  of  whom,  if  ye  fail 
of  saints,  ye  may  at  least  make  martyrs  !  " 

He  paused,  and  his  lip  curled,  and  his  eye  shot  wild- 
fire ;  for  in  that  moment  his  mother's  blood  was  high 
within  him,  and  he  looked  and  thought,  perhaps,  as  some 
heathen  Dane  ;  but  the  flash  of  the  former  man  was 
momentary,  and  humbly  smiting  his  breast,  he  murmured, 
"Avaunt,  Satan!  —  yea,  deadly  was  my  sin  !  And  the 
sin  was  mine  alone,  —  Algive,  if  stained,  was  blameless  ; 
she  escaped,  and  —  and  died  ! 


HAROLD.  121 

"  The  king  was  wroth ;  and  first  to  strive  against  my 
pardon  was  Harold  my  brother,  who  now  alone,  in  my 
penitence,  stands  by  my  side  :  he  strove  manfully  and 
openly  ;  I  blamed  him  not  :  but  Beorn,  my  cousin,  desired 
my  earldom,  and  he  strove  against  me,  wilily  and  in 
secret,  —  to  my  face  kind,  beliind  my  back  despiteful. 
I  detected  his  falsehood,  and  meant  to  detain,  but  not  to 
slay  him.  He  lay  bound  in  my  ship  ;  he  reviled  and  he 
taunted  me  in  the  hour  of  my  gloom,  and  when  the  blood 
of  the  sea-kings  flowed  in  fire  through  my  veins.  And  I 
lifted  my  axe  in  ire  ;  and  my  men  lifted  theirs,  and  so  — 
and  so  !  — Again  I  say,  deadly  was  my  sin  ! 

"  Think  not  that  I  seek  now  to  make  less  my  guilt,  as 
I  sought  when  I  deemed  that  life  was  yet  long,  and  power 
was  yet  sweet.  Since  then  I  have  known  worldly  evil 
and  worldly  good,  —  the  storm  and  the  shine  of  life  :  I 
have  swept  the  seas,  a  sea-king  ;  I  have  battled  with  the- 
Dane  in  his  native  land  ;  I  have  almost  grasped  in  my 
right  hand,  as  I  grasped  in  my  dreams,  the  crown  of  my 
kinsman,  Canute  ;  —  again,  I  have  been  a  fugitive  and 
an  exile  ;  again,  I  have  been  inlawed,  and  earl  of  all  the 
lands  from  Isis  to  the  Wye.^  And  whether  in  state  or  in 
penury,  —  whether  in  war  or  in  peace,  — I  have  seen  the 
pale  face  of  the  nun  betrayed,  and  the  gory  wounds  of 
the  murdered  man.  Wherefore  I  come  not  here  to  plead 
for  a  pardon,  which  would  console  me  not,  but  formally 
to  dissever  my  kinsmen's  cause  from  mine,  which  alone 
sullies  and  degrades  it ;  —  I  come  here  to  say,  that,  covet- 
ing not  your  acquittal,  fearing  not  your  judgment,  I  pro- 
nounce mine  own  doom.  Cap  of  noble,  and  axe  of 
warrior,  I  lay  aside  fOrever  ;  barefooted,  and  alone,  I  go 
hence  to  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  there  to  assoil  my  soul,  and 

1  More  correctly  of  Oxford,  Somerset,  Berkshire,  Gloucester, 
and  Hereford. 


122  HAROLD. 

imiDlore  that  grace  which  cannot  come  from  man  !  Harold, 
step  forth  in  the  place  of  Sweyn  the  first-born  !  And  ye, 
prelates  and  peers,  milites  and  ministers,  proceed  to 
adjudge  the  living !  To  you,  and  to  England,  he  \\lio 
now  quits  you  is  the  dead !  " 

He  gathered  his  robe  of  state  over  his  breast  as  a  monk 
his  gown,  and,  looking  neither  to  right  nor  to  left,  passed 
slowly  down  the  hall,  through  the  crowd,  which  made 
way  for  him  in  awe  and  silence ;  and  it  seemed  to  tlie 
assembly  as  if  a  cloud  had  gone  from  the  face  of  day. 

And  Godwin  still  stood  with  his  face  covered  by  his 
robe. 

And  Harold  anxiously  watched  the  faces  of  the  assem- 
bly, and  saw  no  relenting  ! 

And  Gurth  crept  to  Harold's  side. 

And  the  gay  Leofwine  looked  sad. 

And  the  young  Wolnoth  turned  pale  and  trembled. 

And  the  fierce  Tostig  played  with  his  golden  chain. 

And  one  low  sob  was  heard,  and  it  came  from  the 
breast  of  Aired,  the  meek  accuser,  —  God's  firm  but 
gentle  priest. 


HAROLD,  123 


CHAPTER   IV. 

This  memorable  trial  ended,  as  the  reader  will  have  fore- 
seen, in  the  formal  renewal  of  Swej^n's  outlawry,  and  the 
formal  restitution  of  the  Earl  Godwin  and  his  other  sons 
to  their  lands  and  honors,  with  declarations  imputing  all 
the  blame  of  the  late  dissensions  to  the  foreign  favorites, 
and  sentence  of  banishment  against  them,  except  only, 
by  way  of  a  bitter  mockery,  some  varlets  of  low  degree, 
such  as  Humphrey  Cocksfoot,  and  Richard,  son  of 
Scrob.i 

The  return  to  power  of  this  able  and  vigorous  family 
•was  attended  with  an  instantaneous  effect  upon  the  long- 
relaxed  strings  of  the  imperial  government.  Macbeth 
heard,  and  trembled  in  his  moors  ;  Gryffyth  of  Wales  lit 
the  fire-beacon  on  moel  and  craig.  Earl  Rolf  was 
banished,  but  merely  as  a  nominal  concession  to  pul^lic 
opinion  :  his  kinship  to  Edward  sufficed  to  restore  him 
soon,  not  only  to  England,  but  to  the  lordship  of  the 
Marches  ;  and  thither  was  he  sent,  with  adequate  force, 
against  the  Welsh,  who  had  half  repossessed  themselves 

^  Yet  how  little  safe  it  is  for  the  great  to  despise  the  low-born  ! 
This  very  Richard,  son  of  Scrob,  more  euphoniously  styled  by  the 
Normans  Richard  Fitz-Scrob,  settled  in  Herefordshire  (he  was 
probably  among  the  retainers  of  Earl  Rolf),  and  on  William's 
landing  became  the  chief  and  most  active  supporter  of  the  invader 
in  those  districts.  The  sentence  of  banishment  seems  to  have  been 
mainly  confined  to  the  foreigners  about  the  court ;  for  it  is  clear 
that  many  Norman  landowners  and  priests  were  still  left  scattered 
throughout  the  country. 


124  HAROLD. 

of  the  borders  they  harried.  Saxon  prelates  and  abbots 
replaced  the  Norman  fugitives  ;  and  all  were  contented 
with  the  revolution,  save  the  king  ;  for  the  king  lost  his 
Norman  friends  and  regained  his  English  Avife. 

In  conformity  with  the  usages  of  the  time,  hostages 
of  the  loyalty  and  faith  of  Godwin  were  required  and 
conceded.  They  were  selected  from  his  own  family  ;  and 
the  choice  fell  on  Wolnoth,  his  son,  and  Haco,  the  son 
of  Sweyn.  As,  when  nearly  all  England  may  be  said 
to  have  repassed  to  the  hands  of  Godwin,  it  would  have 
been  an  idle  precaution  to  consign  these  hostages  to  the 
keeping  of  Edward,  it  was  settled,  after  some  discussion, 
that  they  should  be  placed  in  the  court  of  the  Norman 
duke  until  such  time  as  the  king,  satisfied  with  the  good 
faith  of  the  family,  should  authorize  their  recall,  —  Fatal 
hostage,  fatal  ward  and  host  ! 

It  was  some  days  after  this  national  crisis,  and  order 
and  peace  were  again  established  in  city  and  land,  forest 
and  shire,  when,  at  the  setting  of  the  sun,  Hilda  stood 
alone  by  the  altar-stone  of  Thor. 

The  orb  was  sinking  red  and  lurid,  amidst  long  cloud- 
wracks  of  vermeil  and  purple,  and  not  one  human  form 
was  seen  in  the  landscape,  save  that  tall  and  majestic 
figure  by  the  Runic  shrine  and  the  Druid  crommell. 
She  was  leaning  both  hands  on  her  wand,  or  seid-stafF, 
as  it  was  called  in  the  language  of  Scandinavian  super- 
stition, and  bending  slightly  forward  as  in  the  attitude 
of  listening  or  expectation.  Long  before  any  form 
appeared  on  the  road  below,  she  seemed  to  be  aware  of 
coming  footsteps,  and  probably  her  habits  of  life  had 
sharpened  her  senses  ;  for  she  smiled,  muttered  to  her- 
self, "  Ere  it  sets  !  "  and,  changing  her  posture,  leaned 
her  arm  on  the  altar,  and  rested  her  face  upon  het 
hand. 


HAROLD.  125 

At  length  two  figures  came  up  the  road  :  they  neared 
the  ]iill ;  they  saw  her,  and  slowly  ascended  the  knoll. 
The  one  was  dressed  in  the  serge  of  a. pilgrim,  and  his 
cowl  thrown  back  showed  the  face  where  human  beauty 
and  human  power  lay  ravaged  and  ruined  by  human  pas- 
sions. He  upon  whom  the  pilgrim  lightly  leaned  was 
attired  simply,  without  the  brooch  or  bracelet  common  to 
thegns  of  high  degree  ;  yet  his  port  was  that  of  majesty, 
and  his  brow  that  of  mild  command.  A  greater  contrast 
could  not  be  conceived  than  that  between  these  two  men, 
yet  united  by  a  family  likeness.  For  the  countenance  of 
the  last  described  was,  though  sorrowful  at  that  moment, 
and  indeed  habitually  not  without  a  certain  melancholy, 
wonderfully  imposing  from  its  calm  and  sweetness. 
Tliere,  no  devouring  passions  had  left  the  cloud  or 
ploughed  the  line  ;  but  all  the  smooth  loveliness  of  youth 
took  dignity  from  the  conscious  resolve  of  man.  The 
long  hair,  of  a  fair  brown,  with  a  slight  tinge  of  gold,  as 
the  last  sunbeams  shot  through  its  luxuriance,  was  parted 
from  the  temples,  and  fell  in  lai'ge  waves  half-way  to  the 
shoulder.  The  eyebrows,  darker  in  hue,  arched  and 
finely  traced  ;  the  straight  features  not  less  manly  than 
the  iS[orman,  but  less  strongly  marked  ;  the  cheek,  hardy 
with  exercise  and  exposure,  yet  still  retaining  somewhat 
of  youthful  bloom,  under  the  pale  bronze  of  its  sunburnt 
surface ;  the  form  tall,  not  gigantic,  and  vigorous  rather 
from  perfect  proportion  and  athletic  habits  than  from 
breadth  and  bulk,  —  were  all  singularly  characteristic  of 
the  Saxon  beauty  in  its  highest  and  purest  type.  But 
what  chiefly  distinguished  this  personage  was  that  pecu- 
liar dignity,  so  simple,  so  sedate,  which  no  pomp  seems  to 
dazzle,  no  danger  to  disturb  ;  and  which  perhaps  arises 
from  a  strong  sense  of  self-dependence,  and  is  connected 
with  self-respect,  —  a  dignity  common  to  the  Indian  and 


126  HAROLD. 

the  Arab ;  and  rare,  except  in  that  state  of  society  in 
which  each  man  is  a  power  in  himself.  The  Latin  tragic 
poet  touches  close  upon  that  sentiment  in  the  fine  lines,  — 

"  Rex  est  qui  metuit  nihil; 
Hoc  reguum  sibi  qui-sque  dat."  i 

So  stood  the  brothers,  Sweyn  the  outlaw  and  Harold 
the  Earl,  before  the  reputed  proplietess.  She  looked  on 
both  with  a  steady  eye,  which  gradually  softened  almost 
into  tenderness,  as  it  finally  rested  upon  the  pilgrim. 

"  And  is  it  thus,"  she  said  at  last,  "  that  I  see  the  first- 
born of  Godwin  the  fortunate,  for  whom  so  often  I  have 
tasked  the  thunder  and  watched  the  setting  sun ;  for 
whom  my  runes  have  been  graven  on  the  bark  of  the  elm, 
and  the  Scin-laeca  ^  been  called  in  pale  splendor  from  the 
graves  of  the  dead  ?  " 

"  Hilda,"  said  Sweyn,  "  not  now  will  I  accuse  thee  of 
the  seeds  thou  hast  sown  :  the  harvest  is  gathered,  and 
the  sickle  is  broken.  Abjure  thy  dark  Galdra,^  and  turn 
as  I  to  the  sole  light  in  the  future,  which  shines  from  the 
tomb  of  the  Son  Divine." 

The  prophetess  bowed  her  head  and  replied,  — 

"  Belief  cometh  as  the  wind.  Can  the  tree  say  to  the 
wind,  '  Rest  thou  on  my  boughs '  ?  or  Man  to  Belief, 
'  Fold  thy  wings  on  my  heart '  1  Go  where  thy  soul  can 
find  comfort,  for  thy  life  hath  passed  from  its  uses  on 
earth.  And  when  I  would  read  thy  fate,  the  runes  are 
blanks,  and  the  wave  sleeps  unstirred  on  the  fountain. 
Go  where  the  Fylgia,*  whom  Alfader  gives  to  each  at  his 

^  Seneca  :  "  Th3'est."  Act.  ii.  —  "  He  is  a  king  who  fears  noth- 
ing ;  that  kingdom  every  man  gives  to  himself." 

^  Scin-loeca,  literally  a  shining  coi'pse ;  a  species  of  apparition 
invoked  by  the  witch  or  wizard.  —  See  Sharon  Turner  on  "  The 
Superstitions  of  the  Anglo-Saxons,  b.  ii.  c.  14. 

^  Galdra,  magic.  *  Fyhjia,  tutelary  divinity. 


HAROLD.  127 

birth,  leads  tliee.  Thou  didst  desire  love  that  seemed 
eliut  from  thee,  and  I  predicted  that  thy  love  should 
awake  from  the  charnel  in  which  the  creed  that  succeeds 
to  the  faith  of  our  sires  inters  life  in  its  bloom.  And 
thou  didst  covet  the  fame  of  the  Jarl  and  the  Viking,  and 
I  blessed  thine  axe  to  thy  hand,  and  wove  the  sail  for  tliy 
masts.  So  long  as  man  knows  desire  can  Hilda  have 
power  over  his  doom.  But  when  the  heart  lies  in  ashes, 
I  raise  but  a  corpse  that,  at  the  hush  of  the  charm,  falls 
again  into  its  grave.  Yet,  come  to  me  nearer,  0  Sweyn, 
whose  cradle  I  rocked  to  the  chant  of  my  rhyme." 

The  outlaw  turned  aside  his  face,  and  obeyed. 

She  sighed  as  she  took  his  passive  hand  in  her  own, 
and  examined  the  lines  on  the  palm.  Then,  as  if  by  an 
involuntary  impulse  of  fondness  and  pity,  she  put  aside 
his  cowl  and  kissed  his  brow. 

"  Thy  skein  is  spun,  and  happier  than  the  many  who 
scorn,  and  the  few  wlio  lament  thee,  thou  shalt  win 
where  they  lose.  The  steel  shall  not  smite  thee,  the 
storm  shall  forbear  thee,  the  goal  that  thou  yearnest  for 
thy  steps  shall  attain.  Night  hallows  the  ruin,  —  and 
peace  to   the  shattered  wrecks  of  the  brave !  " 

The  outlaw  heard  as  if  unmoved.  But  when  he 
turned  to  Harold,  who  covered  his  face  with  his  hand, 
but  could  not  restrain  the  tears  that  flowed  through  the 
clasped  fingers,  a  moisture  came  into  his  own  wild,  bright 
eyes,  and  he  said,  "  Now,  my  brother,  farewell,  for  no 
farther  step  shalt  thou  wend  with  me." 

Harold  started,  opened  his  arms,  and  the  outlaw  fell 
upon  his  breast. 

No  sound  was  heard  save  a  single  sob ;  and  so  close 
was  breast  to  breast,  you  could  not  say  from  whose  heart 
it  came.  Then  the  outlaw  wrenched  himself  from  the 
embrace,  and  murmured,  "And  Haco,  my  son,  — mother- 


128  HAROLD. 

less,  fatherless,  hostage  in  the  land  of  the  stranger !  Tliou 
wilt  remember — thou  wilt  shield  him;  thou  be  to  him 
mother,  father  in  the  days  to  come  !  So  may  the  saints 
bless  thee ! "  With  these  words  he  sprang  down  the 
hillock. 

Harold  bounded  after  him  ;  but  Sweyn,  halting,  said, 
mournfully,  "  Is  tliis  thy  promise  ?  Am  I  so  lost  that 
faith  should  be  broken  even  with  thy  father's  S(jn  1 " 

At  that  touching  rebuke  Harold  paused,  and  the  out- 
law passed  his  way  alone.  As  the  last  glimpse  of  his 
figure  vanished  at  the  turn  of  the  road,  whence,  on  the 
second  of  INIay,  the  Norman  Duke  and  the  Saxon  King 
had  emerged  side  by  side,  the  short  twilight  closed 
abruptly,  and  up  from  the  far  forest/-land  rose  the 
moon. 

Harold  stood  rooted  to  the  spot,  and  still  gazing  on  the 
space,  when  the  Vala  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  Behold,  as  the  moon  rises  on  the  troubled  gloaming, 
so  rises  the  fate  of  Harold,  as  yon  brief,  human  shadow, 
halting  between  light  and  darkness,  passes  away  to-night. 
Thou  art  now  the  first-born  of  a  House  that  unites  the 
hopes  of  the  Saxon  with  the  fortunes  of  tlie  Dane." 

"  Thinkest  thou,"  said  Harold,  with  a  stern  composure, 
"  that  I  can  have  joy  and  triumph  in  a  brother's  exile  and 
woe  1 " 

"  'Not  now,  and  not  yet,  will  the  voice  of  thy  true 
nature  be  heard  ;  but  the  warmth  of  the  sun  brings  tlie 
thunder,  and  the  glory  of  fortune  wakes  the  storm  of 
the  soul." 

"  Kinswoman,"  said  Harold,  with  a  slight  curl  of  his 
lip,  "  by  me  at  least  have  thy  prophecies  ever  passed  as 
the  sough  of  the  air  :  neither  in  horror  nor  with  faith  do 
I  think  of  thy  incantations  and  charms  ;  and  I  smile  alike 
at  the  exorcism  of  the  shaveling  and  the  spells  of  the 


HAROLD.  129 

Saga.  I  have  asked  thee  not  to  bless  mine  axe,  nor 
weave  my  sail.  No  runic  rhyme  is  on  the  sword-blade 
of  Harold.  I  leave  my  fortunes  to  the  chance  of  mine 
own  cool  brain  and  strong  arm.  Vala,  between  thee  and 
me  there  is  no  bond." 

The  Prophetess  smiled  loftily. 

"  And  what  thinkest  thou,  0  self-dependent !  v/hat 
thinkest  thou  is  the  fate  which  thy  brain  and  thine  arm 
shall  win?" 

"  The  fate  they  have  won  already.  I  see  no  Beyond. 
The  fate  of  a  man  sworn  to  guard  his  country,  love 
justice,  and  do  right." 

The  moon  shone  full  on  the  heroic  face  of  the  young 
earl  as  he  spoke  ;  and  on  its  surface  there  seemed  nought 
to  belie  the  noble  words.  Yet  the  Prophetess,  gazing 
earnestly  on  that  fair  countenance,  said,  in  a  whisper 
that,  despite  a  reason  singularly  sceptical  for  the  age 
in  wliich  it  had  been  cultured,  thrilled  to  the  Saxon's 
heart,  "  Under  that  calm  eye  sleeps  the  soul  of  thy  sire  ; 
and  beneath  that  brow,  so  haught  and  so  pure,  works 
the  genius  that  crowned  the  kings  of  the  north  in  the 
lineage  of  thy  mother  the  Dane." 

"  Peace  !  "  said  Harold,  almost  fiercely  ;  then,  as  if 
ashamed  of  the  weakness  of  his  momentary  irritation,  he 
added,  with  a  faint  smile,  "  Let  us  not  talk  of  these 
matters  while  my  heart  is  still  sad  and  away  from  the 
thoughts  of  the  world,  with  my  brother  the  lonely  out- 
law. Night  is  on  us,  and  the  ways  are  yet  unsafe  ;  for 
the  king's  troops,  disbanded  in  haste,  were  made  up  of 
many  who  turn  to  robbers  in  peace.  Alone,  and  unarmed 
save  my  ateghar,  I  would  crave  a  night's  rest  under  thy 
roof  ;  and  "  —  he  hesitated,  and  a  slight  blush  came  over 
his  cheek  —  "  and  I  would  fain  see  if  your  grandchild  is 

VOL.  I.  —  9 


130  HAROLD. 

as  fair  as  when  I  last  looked  on  her  blue  eyes,  that  then 
wept  for  Harold  ere  he  went  into  exile." 

"  Her  tears  are  not  at  her  command,  nor  her  smiles," 
saitl  the  Vala,  solemnly  ;  "  her  tears  flow  from  the  fount 
of  thy  sorrows,  and  her  smiles  are  the  beams  from  thy 
joys.  For  know,  0  Harold  !  that  Edith  is  thine  earthly 
l^ylgia>  —  tliy  fate  and  her  fate  are  as  one.  And,  vainly 
as  man  would  escape  from  lus  shadow,  would  soul  wrench 
itself  from  the  soul  that  Skulda  hath  linked  to  his 
doom." 

Harold  made  no  reply  ;  but  his  step,  habitually  slow, 
grew  more  quick  and  light,  and  this  time  his  reason  found 
no  fault  with  the  oracles  of  the  Vala. 


HAROLD.  131 


CHAPTER  V. 

As  Hilda  entered  the  hall,  the  various  idlers  accustomed 
to  feed  at  her  cost  were  about  retiring,  some  to  their 
homes  in  the  vicinity,  some,  appertaining  to  the  house- 
hold, to  the  dormitories  in  the  old  Roman  villa. 

It  was  not  the  habit  of  the  Saxon  noble,  as  it  was  of 
the  Norman,  to  put  hospitality  to  profit,  by  regarding  his 
guests  in  the  light  of  armed  retainers.  Liberal  as  the 
Briton,  the  cheer  of  the  board  and  the  shelter  of  the  roof 
were  afforded  with  a  hand  equally  unselfish  and  indis- 
criminate ;  and  the  doors  of  the  more  wealthy  and  munifi- 
cent might  be  almost  literally  said  to  stand  open  from 
morn  to  eve. 

As  Harold  followed  the  Vala  across  the  vast  atrium, 
his  face  was  recognized,  and  a  shout  of  enthusiastic  wel- 
come greeted  the  popular  earl.  The  only  voices  that 
did  not  swell  that  cry  were  those  of  three  monks  from  a 
neighboring  convent,  who  chose  to  wink  at  the  supposed 
practices  of  the  Morthwyrtha,^  from  the  affection  they 
bore  to  her  ale  and  mead,  and  the  gratitude  they  felt  for 
her  ample  gifts  to  their  convent. 

"  One  of  the  wicked  House,  brother,"  whispered  the 
monk. 

"  Yea,  —  mockers  and  scorners  are  Godwin  and  his 
lewd  sons,"  answered  the  monk. 

And  all  three  sighed  and  scowled  as  the  door  closed  on. 
the  hostess  and  her  stately  guest. 

1  Morthwjjrtha,  worshipper  of  the  dead. 


132  HAEOLD. 

Two  tall  and  not  ungraceful  lamps  lighted  the  same 
chamber  in  which  Hilda  was  first  presented  to  the  reader. 
Tlie  handmaids  were  still  at  their  spindles,  and  the  white 
web  nimbly  shot  as  the  mistress  entered.  She  paused, 
and  her  brow  knit  as  she  eyed  the  work. 

"  But  three  parts  done  ? "  she  said  ;  "  weave  fast,  and 
weave  strong." 

Harold,  not  heeding  the  maids  or  their  task,  gazed 
inquiringly  round,  and  from  a  nook  near  the  Avindow 
Edith  sprang  forward  with  a  joyous  cry,  and  a  face  all 
glowing  with  delight,  — sprang  forward  as  if  to  the  arms 
of  a  brother  ;  but,  within  a  step  or  so  of  that  noble  guest, 
she  stopped  short,  and  her  eyes  fell  to  the  ground. 

Harold  held  his  breath  in  admiring  silence.  The  child 
he  had  loved  from  her  cradle  stood  before  him  as  a 
woman.  Even  since  we  last  saw  her,  in  the  interval 
between  the  spring  and  the  autumn,  the  year  had  ripened 
the  youth  of  the  maiden,  as  it  had  mellowed  the  fruits  of 
the  earth ;  and  her  cheek  was  rosy  with  the  celestial 
blush,  and  her  form  rounded  to  the  nameless  grace,  which 
say  that  infancy  is  no  more. 

He  advanced  and  took  her  hand,  but,  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life  in  their  greetings,  he  neither  gave  nor  received 
the  kiss. 

"  You  are  no  child  now,  Edith,"  said  he,  involuntarily  ; 
"  but  still  set  apart,  I  pray  you,  some  remains  of  the  old 
childish  love  for  Harold." 

Edith's  charming  lips  smiled  softly ;  she  raised  her 
eyes  to  his,  and  their  innocent  fondness  spoke  through 
happy  tears. 

But  few  words  passed  in  tlie  short  interval  between 
Harold's  entrance  and  his  retirement  to  the  chamber 
jDrepared  for  him  in  haste.  Hilda  herself  led  him  to  a 
rude  ladder  which  admitted  to  a  room  above,  evidently 


HAROLD.  133 

added  by  some  Saxon  lord  to  the  old  Roman  pile.  The 
ladder  showed  the  precaution  of  one  accustomed  to  sleep 
in  the  midst  of  peril ;  for,  by  a  kind  of  windlass  in  the 
room,  it  could  be  drawn  up  at  the  inmate's  will,  and,  so 
drawn,  left  below  a  dark  and  deep  chasm,  delving  down 
to  the  foundations  of  the  house.  I^evertheless,  the  room 
itself  had  all  the  luxury  of  the  time  :  the  bedstead  was 
quaintly  carved,  and  of  some  rare  wood  ;  a  trophy  of  arms 
—  though  very  ancient,  sedulously  polished  —  hung  on 
the  wall.  There  were  the  small,  round  shield  and  spear 
of  the  earlier  Saxon,  with  his  vizorless  helm,  and  the 
short,  curved  knife  or  saex,^  from  which  some  antiquarians 
deem  that  the  Saxish  men  take  their  renowned  name. 

Edith,  following  Hilda,  proffered  to  the  guest,  on  a 
salver  of  gold,  spiced  wines  and  confections ;  while 
Hilda,  silently  and  unperceived,  waved  her  seid-staff 
over  the  bed,  and  rested  her  pale  hand  on  the  pillow. 

"  I^ay,  sweet  cousin,"  said  Harold,  smiling ;  "  this  is 
not  one  of  the  fashions  of  old,  but  rather,  methinks,  bor- 
rowed from  the  Frankish  manners  in  the  court  of  King 
Edward." 

"  Not  so,  Harold,"  answered  Hilda,  quickly  turning ; 
*'  such  was  ever  the  ceremony  due  to  Saxon  king,  when  he 
slept  in  a  subject's  house,  ere  our  kinsmen  the  Danes  in- 
troduced that  unroyal  wassail  which  left  subject  and  king 
unable  to  hold  or  to  quaff  cup,  when  the  board  was  left 
for  the  bed." 

"  Thou  rebukest,  0  Hilda,  too  tauntingly,  the  pride  of 
Godwin's   House,   when  thou  givest  to  his  homely  son 

1  It  is  a  disputed  question  whether  the  ssex  of  the  earliest  Saxon 
invaders  was  a  long  or  short  curved  weapon,  —  nay,  whether  it  was 
curved  or  straight ;  but  the  author  sides  with  those  who  contend 
that  it  was  a  short  crooked  weapon,  easily  concealed*'by  a  cloak, 
and  similar  to  those  depicted  on  the  banner  of  the  East  Saxons. 


134  HAROLD. 

the  ceremonial  of  a  king.  But,  so  served,  I  envy  not 
kings,  fair  Edith." 

He  took  the  cup,  raised  it  to  his  lips,  and  when  he 
placed  it  on  the  small  table  by  his  side,  the  women  had 
left  the  chamber,  and  he  was  alone.  He  stood  for  some 
minutes  absorbed  in  reverie,  and  his  soliloquy  ran  some- 
what thus : — 

"  Why  said  the  Vala  that  Edith's  fate  was  inwoven 
with  mine  ?  And  why  did  I  believe  and  bless  the  Vala 
when  she  so  said  1  Can  Edith  ever  be  my  wife  1  The 
monk-king  designs  her  for  the  cloister,  —  Woe  and  well- 
a-day  !  Sweyn,  Sweyn,  let  thy  doom  forewarn  me  !  And 
if  I  stand  up  in  my  place  and  say,  '  Give  age  and  grief 
to  the  cloister,  — youth  and  delight  to  man's  hearth,' 
what  will  answer  the  monks  ?  '  Edith  cannot  be  thy 
wife,  son  of  Godwin,  for  faint  and  scarce  traced  though 
your  affinity  of  blood,  ye  are  within  the  banned  degrees 
of  the  Church.  Edith  may  be  wife  to  another,  if  thou 
wilt,  —  barren  spouse  of  the  Church,  or  mother  of  chil- 
dren who  lisp  not  Harold's  name  as  their  father.'  Out 
on  these  priests  with  their  mummeries,  and  out  on  their 
war  upon  human  hearts." 

His  fair  brow  grew  stern  and  fierce  as  the  Norman 
Duke's  in  his  ire  ;  and  had  you  seen  him  at  that  moment 
you  would  have  seen  the  true  brother  of  Sweyn.  He 
broke  from  his  thoughts  with  the  strong  effort  of  a  man 
habituated  to  self-control,  and  advanced  to  the  narrow 
window,  opened  the  lattice,  and  looked  out. 

The  moon  was  in  all  her  splendor.  The  long,  deep 
shadows  of  the  breathless  forest  checkered  the  silvery 
whiteness  of  open  sward  and  intervening  glade.  Ghostly 
arose  on  the  knoll  before  him  the  gray  columns  of  the 
mystic  Druid, — dark  and  indistinct  the  bloody  altar  of 
the  Warrior  god.     But  there  his  eye  was  arrested  ;  for 


HAROLD.  135 

whatever  is  least  distinct  and  defined  in  a  landscape  has 
the  charm  that  is  the  strongest ;  and,  while  he  gazed,  he 
thought  that  a  pale,  phosphoric  light  broke  from  the 
mound  with  the  bautastein  that  rose  by  the  Teuton  altar. 
He  thought,  for  he  was  not  sure  that  it  was  not  some 
cheat  of  the  fancy.  Gazing  still,  in  the  centre  of  that 
light,  there  appeared  to  gleam  forth  for  one  moment  a 
form  of  superhuman  height.  It  was  the  form  of  a  man 
that  seemed  clad  in  arms  like  those  on  the  wall,  leaning 
on  a  spear,  whose  point  was  lost  behind  the  shafts  of  the 
crommell.  And  the  face  grew  in  that  moment  distinct 
from  the  light  which  shimmered  around  it,  a  face  large 
as  some  early  god's  but  stamped  with  unutterable  and 
solemn  woe.  He  drew  back  a  step,  passed  his  hand  over 
liis  eyes,  and  looked  again.  Light  and  figure  alike  had 
vanished  ;  nought  was  seen  save  the  gray  columns  and 
the  dim  fane.  The  earl's  lip  curved  in  derision  of  his 
weakness.  He  closed  the  lattice,  undressed,  knelt  for  a 
moment  or  so  by  the  bedside,  and  his  prayer  was  brief 
and  simple,  nor  accompanied  with  the  crossings  and  signs 
customary  in  his  age.  He  rose,  extinguished  the  lamp, 
and  threw  himself  on  the  bed. 

The  moon,  thus  relieved  of  the  lamplight,  came  clear 
and  bright  through  the  room,  shone  on  the  trophied  arms, 
and  fell  upon  Harold's  face,  casting  its  brightness  on  the 
pillow  on  which  the  Vala  had  breathed  her  charm.  And 
Harold  slept,  —  slept  long,  —  his  face  calm,  his  breathing 
regular  :  but  ere  the  moon  sunk  and  the  dawn  rose  the 
features  were  dark  and  troubled,  the  breath  came  by  gasps, 
the  brow  was  knit,  and  the  teeth  clinched. 


BOOK    IV. 

THE   HEATHEN   ALTAR   AND   THE   SAXON   CHURCH. 


CHAPTER  I. 

"While  Harold  sleeps,  let  ns  here  pause  to  survey  for  the 
first  time  the  greatness  of  that  House  to  which  Sweyn's 
exile  had  left  him  the  heir.  The  fortunes  of  Godwin  had 
been  those  which  no  man  uot  eminently  versed  in  the 
science  of  his  kind  can  achieve.  Though  the  fable  which 
some  modern  historians  of  great  name  have  repeated  and 
detailed,  as  to  his  early  condition  as  the  son  of  a  cowherd, 
is  utterly  groundless,  and  he  belonged  to  a  house  all- 
powerful  at  the  time  of  his  youth,  he  was  unquestionably 
the  builder  of  his  own  greatness.  That  he  should  rise  so 
high  in  the  early  part  of  his  career  was  less  remarkable 
than  that  he  should  have  so  long  continued  the  possessor 
of  a  power  and  state  in  reality  more  than  regal. 

But,  as  has  been  before  implied,  God\vin's  civil  capaci- 
ties were  more  prominent  tliau  his  warlike.  And  this 
it  is  which  invests  him  with  that  jjeculiar  interest  which 
attracts  us  to  those  who  knit  our  modern  intelligence  with 
the  past.  In  that  dim  world  before  the  Norman  deluge, 
we  are  startled  to  recognize  the  gifts  that  ordinarily  dis- 
tinguish a  man  of  peace  in  a  civilized  age. 


138  HAROLD. 

His  father,  Wolnotli,  had  been  "  Childe  "^  of  the  South 
Saxons,  or  thegn  of  Sussex,  a  nephew  of  Edric  Streone, 
Earl  of  Mercia,  the  unprincipled  but  able  minister  of 
Ethelred,  who  betrayed  his  master  to  Canute,  by  whom, 
according  to  most  authorities,  he  was  righteously,  though 
not  very  legally,  slain  as  a  reward  for  the  treason. 

"  1  promised,"  said  the  Dane  king,  "  to  set  thy  head 
Jiigher  than  other  men's,  and  I  keep  my  word."  The 
trunkless  head  was  set  on  the  gates  of  London. 

Wolnoth  had  quarrelled  with  liis  uncle  Brightric, 
Edric's  brother,  and  before  the  arrival  of  Canute  had 
betaken  himself  to  the  piracy  of  a  sea-chief,  seduced 
twenty  of  the  king's  ships,  plundered  the  southern  coasts, 
burned  the  royal  navy,  and  then  his  history  disappears 
from  the  chronicles  ;  but  immediately  afterwards  the 
great  Danish  army,  called  Thurkell's  Host,  invaded  the 
coast,  and  kept  their  chief  station  on  the  Thames.  Their 
victorious  arms  soon  placed  the  country  almost  at  their 
command.  The  traitor  Edric  joined  them  Avith  a  power 
of  more  than  10,000  men ;  and  it  is  probable  enough  that 
the  ships  of  Wolnoth  had  before  this  time  melted  amica- 
bly into  the  armament  of  the  Danes.  If  this,  which 
seems  the  most  likely  conjecture,  be  received,  Godwin, 
then  a  mere  youth,  would  naturally  have  commenced  his 
career  in  the  cause  of  Canute ;  and  as  the  son  of  a  for- 
midable chief  of  thegn's  rank,  and  even  as  kinsman  to 
Edric,   who,   whatever  his  crimes,  must  have  retained  a 

1  "Saxon  Chronicle,"  Florence  Wigorn.  Sir  F.  Palgrave  saA's 
tliat  the  title  of  Childe  is  equivalent  to  that  of  Atheliug.  With 
that  remarkable  appreciation  of  evidence  which  generally  makes 
him  so  invaluable  as  a  judicial  authority  where  accounts  are  con- 
tradictory, Sir  F.  Palgrave  discards  with  silent  contempt  the 
absurd  romance  of  Gofhvin's  station  of  herdsmau,  to  which,  upon 
such  very  fallacious  and  flimsy  authorities,  Thierry  and  Sharon 
Turner  have  been  betrayed  into  lending  their  distinguished  names. 


HAROLD.  139 

party  it  was  wise  to  conciliate,  Godwin's  favor  with 
Canute,  whose  policy  would  lead  him  to  show  marked 
distinction  to  any  able  Saxon  follower,  ceases  to  he 
surprising. 

The  son  of  Wolnoth  accompanied  Canute  in  his  military 
expedition  to  the  Scandinavian  continent ;  and  here  a 
signal  victory,  planned  by  Godwin,  and  executed  solely 
by  himself  and  the  Saxon  band  under  his  command, 
without  aid  from  Canute's  Danes,  made  the  most  memo- 
rable military  exploit  of  his  life,  and  confirmed  his  rising 
fortunes. 

Edric,  though  he  is  said  to  have  been  low-born,  had 
married  the  sister  of  King  Ethelred ;  and  as  Godwin 
advanced  in  fame,  Canute  did  not  disdain  to  bestow  his 
own  sister  in  marriage  on  the  eloquent  favorite,  who 
probably  kept  no  small  portion  of  the  Saxon  population 
to  their  allegiance.  On  the  death  of  this,  his  first  wife, 
who  bore  him  but  one  son^  (who  died  by  accident),  he 
found  a  second  spouse  in  the  same  royal  house  ;  and  the 
mother  of  his  six  living  sons  and  two  daughters  was  the 
niece  of  his  king,  and  sister  of  Sweyn,  who  subsequently 
filled  the  throne  of  Denmark.  After  the  death  of  Canute, 
the  Saxon's  predilections  in  favor  of  the  Saxon  line 
became  apparent ;  but  it  was  either  his  policy  or  his  prin- 
ciples always  to  defer  to  the  popular  will  as  expressed  in 
tlie  national  council ;  and  on  the  preference  given  by  the 
"VVitan  to  Harold  the  son  of  Canute  over  the  heirs  of  Ethel- 
red,  he  yielded  his  own  inclinations.  The  great  power  of 
the  Danes,  and  the  amicable  fusion  of  their  race  with  the 
Saxon  which  had  now  taken  place,  are  apparent  in  this 
decision  ;  for  not  only  did  Earl  Leofric,  of  Mercia,  though 

1  This  first  wife,  Thyra,  was  of  very  unpopi\lar  repute  witli  the 
Saxoijs.  She  was  accused  of  sending  young  English  persons  as 
slaves  into  Denmark,  and  is  said  to  have  been  killed  by  lightning. 


140  HAROLD. 

himself  a  Saxon  (as  well  as  tlie  Earl  of  JSTorthiimbria,  with 
the  thogns  north  of  the  Thames),  declare  for  Harold  the 
Dane,  but  the  citizens  of  London  were  of  the  same  party  ; 
and  Godwin  represented  little  more  than  the  feeling  of  his 
own  principality  of  Wessex. 

From  that  time  Godwin,  however,  became  identified 
with  the  English  cause  ;  and  even  many  who  believed 
him  guilty  of  some  share  in  the  murder,  or  at  least  the 
betrayal  of  Alfred,  Edward's  brother,  sought  excuses  in 
the  disgust  with  which  Godwin  had  regarded  the  foreign 
retinue  that  Alfred  had  brought  with  him,  as  if  to  owe 
his  throne^  to  Norman  swords  rather  than  to  English 
hearts. 

Hardicanute,  who  succeeded  Harold,  whose  memory  he 
abhorred,  whose  corpse  he  disinterred  and  flung  into  a 
fen,^  had  been  chosen  by  the  unanimous  council  both  of 
English  and  Danish  thegns  ;  and,  despite  Hardicanute's 
first  vehement  accusations  of  Godwin,  the  earl  still 
remained  throughout  that  reign  as  powerful  as  in  the  two 
preceding  it.  When  Hardicanute  dropped  down  dead  at  a 
marriage  banquet,  it  was  Godwin  who  placed  Edward  upon 
the  throne  ;  and  that  great  earl  must  either  have  been 
conscious  of  his  innocence  of  the  murder  of  Edward's 
brother,  or  assured  of  his  own  irresponsible  power,  when 
he  said  to  the  prince  wdio  knelt  at  his  feet,  and,  fearful  of 
the  difficulties  in  his  way,  implored  the  earl  to  aid  his 
abdication  of  the  throne  and  return  to  Normandy,  — 
"  You  are    the    son  of    Ethelred,  grandson   of    Edgar. 

1  It  is  just,  however,  to  Godwin  to  say,  that  there  is  no  proof  oi 
his  share  in  this  barbarous  transaction ;  the  presumptions,  on  the 
contrary,  are  in  his  favor  :  but  the  authorities  are  too  contradic- 
tory, and  the  whole  event  too  obscure,  to  enable  us  unhesitatingly 
to  confirm  the  acquittal  he  received  iu  his  own  age,  and  from  his 
own  national  tribunal. 

s  "Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle." 


HAROLD.  141 

Reign,  it  is  yonr  duty  ;  better  to  live  in  glory  than  die  in 
exile.  You  are  of  mature  years,  and,  having  known  sor- 
row and  need,  can  better  feel  for  your  people.  Rely  on 
me,  and  there  will  be  none  of  the  difficulties  you  dread ; 
whom  I  favor,  England  favors." 

And  shortly  afterwards,  in  the  national  assembly,  God- 
win won  Edward  his  throne.  "  Powerful  in  speech, 
powerful  in  bringing  over  people  to  what  he  desired,  some 
yielded  to  his  words,  some  to  bribes."^  Yerily,  Godwin 
was  a  man  to  have  risen  as  high  had  he  lived  later ! 

So  Edward  reigned,  and,  agreeably,  it  is  said,  with  pre- 
vious stipulations,  inarried  the  d;vighter  of  his  king- 
maker. Beautiful  as  Edith  tlie  queen  was  in  mind  and 
in  person,  Edward  apparently  lovrd  her  not.  She  dwelt 
in  his  palace,  his  wife  only  in  name. 

Tostig  (as  we  have  seen)  had  married  the  daughter  of 
Baldwin,  Count  of  Flanders,  sister  to  Matilda,  wife  to  the 
Norman  Duke  ;  and  thus  the  House  of  Godwin  was  triply 
allied  to  princely  lineage,  —  the  Danish,  the  Saxon,  the 
Flemish.  And  Tostig  might  have  said,  as  in  his  heart 
"William  the  ISTorman  said,  "  My  children  shall  descend 
from  Charlemagne  and  Alfred." 

Godwin's  life,  though  thus  outwardly  brilliant,  was  too 
incessantly  passed  in  public  afifhirs  and  politic  schemes  to 
allow  the  worldly  man  much  leisure  to  watch  over  the 
nurture  and  rearing  of  the  bold  spirits  of  his  sons.  Githa 
his  wife,  the  Dane,  a  woman  with  a  haughty  but  noble 
spirit,  imperfect  education,  and  some  of  the  wild  and  law- 
less blood  derived  from  her  race  of  heathen  sea-kings, 
was  more  fitted  to  stir  their  ambition  and  inflame  their 
fancies,  than  curb  their  tempers  and  mould  their  hearts. 

We  have  seen  the  career  of  Sweyn  ;  but  Sweyn  was  an 
angel  of  light  compared  to  his  brother  Tostig.     He  who 
1  William  of  Malmesbury. 


142  HAROLD. 

can  be  penitent  lias  ever  something  lofty  in  his  original 
nature ;  but  Tostig  was  remorseless  as  the  tiger,  as 
treacherous  and  as  fierce.  With  less  intellectual  capaci- 
ties than  any  of  his  brothers,  he  had  more  personal  ambi- 
tion than  all  put  together.  A  kind  of  efieminate  vanity, 
not  uncommon  with  daring  natures  (for  the  bravest  races 
and  the  bravest  soldiers  are  usually  the  vainest ;  the 
desire  to  shine  is  as  visible  in  the  fop  as  in  the  hero), 
made  liim  restless  both  for  command  and  notoriety. 
*'  May  I  ever  be  in  tlie  mouths  of  men,"  was  his  favorite 
prayer.  Like  his  maternal  ancestry,  the  Danes,  he  curled 
his  long  hair  and  went  as  a  bridegroom  to  the  feast  of  the 
ravens. 

Two  only  of  that  house  had  studied  the  Humane  Let- 
ters, which  were  no  longer  disregarded  by  the  jtrinces  of 
the  Continent ;  they  were  the  sweet  sister,  the  eldest  of 
the  family,  fading  fast  in  her  loveless  home,  and  Harold. 

But  Harold's  mind  —  in  which  what  we  call  common 
sense  was  carried  to  genius,  a  mind  singularly  practical 
and  sagacious,  like  his  father's —  cared  little  for  theologi- 
cal learning  and  priestly  legend,  for  all  that  poesy  of 
religion  in  wliich  the  Woman  was  wafted  from  the  sorrows 
of  earth. 

Godwin  himself  was  no  favorite  of  the  Church,  and 
had  seen  too  much  of  the  abuses  of  the  Saxon  priesthood 
(perhaps,  with  few  exceptions,  tlie  most  corrupt  and  illite- 
rate in  all  Europe,  which  is  saying  much),  to  instib  into 
his  children  that  reverence  for  the  spiritual  authority 
which  existed  abroad  ;  and  the  enlightenment,  which  in 
him  was  experience  in  life,  was  in  Harold,  betimes,  the 
result  of  study  and  reflection.  The  few  books  of  the 
classical  world  then  within  reach  of  the  student  opened 
to  the  young  Saxon  views  of  human  duties  and  human 
responsibilities  utterly  distinct  from  the  unmeaning  cere- 


HAROLD.  143 

monials  and  fleshly  mortifications  in  which  even  the 
higher  theology  of  that  day  placed  tlie  elements  of  virtue. 
He  smiled  in  scorn  when  some  Dane,  whose  life  had  been 
passed  in  the  alternate  drunkenness  of  wine  and  of  blood, 
thought  he  had  opened  the  gates  of  heaven  by  bequeath- 
ing lands  gained  by  a  robber's  sword  to  pamper  the  lazy 
sloth  of  some  fifty  monks.  If  those  monks  had  presumed 
to  question  liis  own  actions,  his  disdain  would  have  been 
mixed  with  simple  wonder  that  men  so  besotted  in  igno- 
rance, and  who  could  not  construe  the  Latin  of  the  very 
prayers  they  pattered,  should  presume  to  be  the  judges  of 
educated  men.  It  is  pos^^ible  —  for  his  nature  was  earn- 
est —  that  a  pure  and  enlightened  clergy,  that  even  a 
clergy,  though  defective  in  life,  zealous  in  duty  and  culti- 
vated in  mind,  —  such  a  clergy  as  Alfred  sought  to 
found,  and  as  Lanfranc  endeavored  (not  without  some 
success)  to  teach,  —  would  have  bowed  his  strong  sense 
to  that  grand  and  subtle  truth  which  dwells  in  spiritual 
authority.  But  as  it  was,  he  stood  aloof  from  the  rude 
superstition  of  his  age,  and  early  in  life  made  himself  the 
arbiter  of  his  own  conscience.  Reducing  his  religion  to 
the  simplest  elements  of  our  creed,  he  found  rather  in  the 
books  of  Heathen  authors  than  in  the  lives  of  the  saints 
his  notions  of  the  larger  morality  which  relates  to  the 
citizen  and  the  man.  The  love  of  country,  the  sense  of 
justice,  fortitude  in  adverse  and  temperance  in  prosperous 
fortune,  became  portions  of  his  very  mind.  Unlike  his 
father,  he  played  no  actor's  part  in  those  qualities  which 
had  won  him  the  popular  heart.  He  was  gentle  and 
affable ;  above  all,  he  was  fair-dealing  and  just,  not 
because  it  was  politic  to  seem,  but  his  nature  to  be  so. 

Nevertheless,  Harold's  character,  beautiful  and  sublime 
in  many  respects  as  it  was,  had  its  strong  leaven  of  human 
imperfection  in  that  very  self-dependence  which  was  born 


144  HAROLD. 

of  liis  reason  and  liis  priile.  In  resting  so  solely  on  man's 
perceptions  of  the  right,  he  lost  one  attribute  of  the  true 
liero,  — faith.  We  do  not  mean  that  word  in  the  religious 
sense  alone,  but  in  the  more  comprehensive.  He  did  not 
rely  on  the  Celestial  Sometliing  pervading  all  nature, 
never  seen,  only  felt  when  duly  courted,  stronger  and 
lovelier  than  what  eye  could  behold  and  mere  reason 
could  embrace.  Believing,  it  is  true,  in  God,  he  lost  those 
fine  links  that  unite  God  to  man's  secret  heart,  and  which 
are  woven  alike  from  the  simplicity  of  the  child  and  the 
wisdom  of  the  poet.  To  use  a  modern  illustration,  his 
large  mind  was  a  "cupola  lighted  from  below." 

His  bravery,  though  inflexible  as  the  fiercest  sea-king's, 
when  need  arose  for  its  exercise,  was  not  his  prominent 
characteristic.  He  despised  the  brute  valor  of  Tostig  : 
his  bravery  was  a  necessary  part  of  a  firm  and  balanced 
manhood,  —  the  bravery  of  Hector,  not  Achilles.  Con- 
.stitutionally  averse  to  bloodshed,  he  could  seem  timid 
where  daring  only  gratified  a  wanton  vanity,  or  aimed  at 
a  selfish  oljject.  On  the  other  hand,  if  duty  demanded 
daring,  no  danger  couLl  deter,  no  policy  warp  him  :  he 
could  seem  rash,  —  he  could  even  seem  merciless.  In  the 
what  ought  to  be,  he  understood  a  must  he. 

And  it  was  natural  to  this  peculiar  yet  thoroughly  Eng- 
lish temperament  to  be,  in  action,  rather  steadfast  and 
patient  than  quick  and  ready.  Placed  in  perils  familiar 
to  him,  nothing  could  exceed  his  vigor  and  address ;  but 
if  taken  unawares,  and  before  his  judgment  could  come  to 
his  aid,  he  was  liable  to  be  surprised  into  error.  Large 
minds  are  rarely  quick,  unless  they  have  been  corrupted 
into  unnatural  vigilance  by  the  necessities  of  suspicion. 
But  a  nature  more  thoroughly  unsuspecting,  more  frank, 
trustful,  and  genuinely  loyal  than  that  young  earl's,  it 
was   impossible   to  conceive.     All    these  attributes  con- 


HAROLD.  145 

sidered,  we  have  the  key  to  much  of  Harold's  character 
and  conduct  in  the  later  events  of  his  fated  and  tragic  life. 
But  with  this  temperament,  so  manly  and  simple,  we 
are  not  to  suppose  that  Harold,  while  rejecting  the  super- 
stitions of  one  class,  Avas  so  far  beyond  his  time  as  to 
reject  those  of  another.  ISTo  son  of  fortune,  no  man  plac- 
ing himself  and  the  world  in  antagonism,  can  ever  escape 
from  some  belief  in  the  Invisible.  Csesar  could  ridicule 
and  profane  the  mystic  rites  of  Roman  mythology,  but 
he  must  still  believe  in  his  fortune,  as  in  a  god.  And 
Harold,  in  his  very  studies,  seeing  the  freest  and  boldest 
minds  of  antiquity  subjected  to  influences  akin  to  those 
of  his  Saxon  forefathers,  felt  less  shame  in  yielding  to 
them,  vain  as  they  might  be,  than  in  monkish  impostures 
so  easily  detected.  Though  hitherto  he  had  rejected  all 
direct  appeal  to  the  magic  devices  of  Hilda,  the  sound  of 
her  dark  sayings,  heard  in  childhood,  still  vibrated  on  his 
soul  as  man.  Belief  in  omens,  in  days  lucky  or  unlucky, 
in  the  stars,  was  universal  in  every  class  of  the  Sa.xon. 
Harold  had  his  own  fortunate  day,  the  day  of  his  nativitv, 
the  14th  of  October.  All  enterprises  undertaken  on  that 
day  had  hitherto  been  successful.  He  believed  in  the 
virtue  of  that  day  as  Cromwell  believed  in  his  3d  of  Sep- 
tember. For  the  rest,  we  have  described  him  as  he  was 
in  that  part  of  his  career  in  which  he  is  now  presented. 
"Whether  altered  by  fate  and  circumstances,  time  will 
show.  As  yet,  no  selfish  ambition  leagued  with  the 
natural  desire  of  youth  and  intellect  for  their  fair  share 
of  fame  and  power.  His  patriotism,  fed  by  the  example 
of  Greek  and  Roman  worthies,  was  genuine,  pure,  and 
ardent ;  he  could  have  stood  in  the  pass  with  Leonidas, 
or  leaped  into  the  gulf  witli  Curtius. 

VOL.  I.  —  10 


146  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER  II. 

At  dawn,  Harold  woke  from  uneasy  and  broken  slum- 
bers, and  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  face  of  Hilda,  large  and 
fair,  and  unutterably  calm,  as  the  face  of  Egyptian 
sphynx. 

"  Have  thy  dreams  been  prophetic,  son  of  Godwin  ? " 
said  the  Vala. 

"  Our  Lord  forefend,"  replied  the  earl,  with  unusual 
devoutness. 

"  Tell  them,  and  let  me  read  the  rede ;  sense  dwells 
in  the  voices  of  the  night." 

Harold  mused,  and,  after  a  short  pause,  he  said,  — 

"Methinks,  Hilda,  I  can  myself  explain  how  those 
dreams  came  to  haunt  me." 

Tlien  raising  himself  on  his  elbow,  he  continued,  while 
he  tixeil  his  clear  penetrating  eyes  upon  his  hostess,  — 

"Tell  me  frankly,  Hilda,  didst  thou  not  cause  some 
light  to  shine  on  yonder  knoll,  by  the  mound  and  stone, 
within  the  temple  of  the  Druids?" 

But  if  Harold  had  suspected  himself  to  be  the  dupe  of 
some  imposture,  the  thought  vanished  when  he  saw  the 
look  of  keen  interest,  even  of  awe,  which  Hilda's  face 
instantly  assumed. 

"  Didst  thou  see  a  light,  son  of  Godwin,  by  the  altar 
of  Thor,  and  over  the  bautastein  of  the  mighty  dead,  — 
a  flame,  lambent  and  livid,  like  moonbeams  collected  over 
snow  ?  " 

"  So  seemed  to  me  the  light." 


HAROLD.  147 

"  No  human  hand  ever  kindled  that  flame  which  an- 
nounces the  presence  of  the  Dead,"  said  Hilda,  with  a 
tremulous  voice  ;  "  though  seldom,  uncompelled  by  the 
seid  and  the  rune,  does  the  spectre  itself  warn  the  eyes  of 
the  living." 

"  What  shape,  or  what  shadow  of  shape,  does  that 
spectre  assume  ? " 

"  It  rises  in  the  midst  of  the  flame,  pale  as  the  mist 
on  the  mountain,  and  vast  as  the  giants  of  old  ;  with 
the  saex,  and  the  spear,  and  the  shield,  of  the  sons 
of  Woden.  Thou  hast  seen  the  Scin-lseca  ? "  continued 
Hilda,  looking  full  on  the  face  of  the  earl. 

"  If  thou  deceivest  me  not,"  began  Harold,  doubting 
still. 

"  Deceive  thee !  not  to  save  the  crown  of  the  Saxon 
dare  I  mock  the  might  of  the  dead.  Knowest  thou  not 
—  or  hath  thy  vain  lore  stood  in  place  of  the  lore  of  thy 
fathers  —  that  where  a  hero  of  old  is  buried,  his  treasures 
lie  in  his  grave  ;  that  over  that  grave  is  at  times  seen  at 
night  the  flame  that  thou  sawest,  and  the  dead  in  his 
image  of  air  1  Oft  seen  in  the  days  that  are  gone,  when 
the  dead  and  the  living  had  one  faith  —  were  one  race  ; 
now  never  marked,  but  for  portent,  and  prophecy,  and 
doom  :  glory  or  woe  to  the  eyes  that  see  !  On  yon  knoll, 
^sc  (the  firstborn  of  Cerdic,  that  Father-King  of  the 
Saxons)  has  his  grave  where  the  mound  rises  green,  and 
the  stone  gleams  wan,  by  the  altar  of  Thor.  He  smote 
the  Britons  in  their  temple,  and  he  fell  smiting.  They 
buried  him  in  his  arms,  and  with  the  treasures  his  right 
hand  had  won.  Fate  hangs  on  the  house  of  Cerdic  or  the 
realm  of  the  Saxon  when  Woden  calls  the  Iseca  of  his  son 
from  the  grave." 

Hilda,  much  troubled,  bent  her  face  over  her  clasped 
hands,  and,  rocking  to  and  fro,  muttered  some  runes  un- 


148  HAROLD. 

intelligible  to  the  ear  of  her  listener.    Then  she  turned  to 
him,  commandingly,  and  said,  — 

"  Thy  dreams  now,  indeed,  are  oracles,  more  true  than 
living  Vala  could  charm  with  the  wand  and  the  rune  : 
"Unfold  them." 

Thus  adjured,  Harold  resumed  :  — 

"  Methought,  then,  that  I  was  on  a  broad,  level  plain 
in  the  noon  of  day  :  all  was  clear  to  my  eye  and  glad  to 
my  heart.     I  was  alone,  and  went  on  my  way  rejoicing. 
Suddenly  the  earth    opened    under    my  feet,  and  I  fell 
deep,  fathom-deep  —  deep,  as  if  to  that  central  pit  which 
our    heathen    sires    called    Niffelheim,  —  the     Home    of 
Vapor,  —  the  hell  of   the  dead  who  die  without    glory. 
Stunned  by  the  fall,  I  lay  long,  locked  as  in  a  dream  in 
the  midst  of  a  dream.      When  I  opened  my  eyes,  behold, 
—  I   was    girt  round  with  dead    men's  l)ones ;    and    the 
bones  moved  round  me,  undulating,  as  the  dry  leaves  that 
wirble  round  in  the  winds  of  the  winter.     And  from  the 
midst  of  them  peered  a  trunkless  skull,  and  on  the  skull 
was  a  mitre,  and  from  the  yawning  jaws  a  voice  came 
hissing,  as  a  serpent's  hiss,  '  Harold,  the  scorner,  thou  art 
ours  ! '     Then,  as  from  the  buzz  of  an  army,  came  voices 
multitudinous,   '  Thou  art  ours  ! '     I  sought  to  rise,  and 
behold  my  limbs  were  bound,  and  the  gyves  were  fine 
and  frail,  as  the  web  of  the  gossamer,  and  they  weighed 
on  me  like  chains  of  iron.     And  I  felt  an  anguish  of  soul 
that  no  words  can  speak,  —  an  anguish  both  of   horror 
and  shame  ;  and  my  manhood  seemed  to  ooze  from  me, 
and  I  was  weak  as  a  child    new  born.     Then  suddenly 
there  rushed  forth  a  freezing  wind,  as  from  an  air  of  ice, 
and  the  bones  from  their  whirl  stood  still,  and  the  buzz 
ceased,  and    the  mitred    skull    grinned    on  me  still  and 
voiceless  ;  and  serpents  darted  their  arrowy  tongues  from 
the  eyeless  sockets.     And  lo,  before  me  stood  (0  Hilda, 


HAROLD.  149 

I  see  it  now  !)  the  form  of  the  spectre  that  had  risen  from 
yonder  knoll.  With  his  spear,  and  ssex,  and  his  shield,  he 
stood  before  me ;  and  his  face,  though  pale  as  that  of  one 
long  dead,  was  stern  as  the  face  of  a  warrior  in  the  van  of 
armed  men  ;  he  stretched  his  hand,  and  he  smote  his  saex 
on  his  shield,  and  the  clang  sounded  hollow ;  the  gyves 
broke  at  the  clash,  —  I  sprang  to  my  feet,  and  I  stood 
side  by  side  with  the  phantom,  dauntless.  Then,  sud- 
denly, the  mitre  on  the  skull  changed  to  a  helm  ;  and 
where  the  skull  had  grinned,  trunkless  and  harmless, 
stood  a  shape  like  War,  made  incarnate  ;  —  a  Thing  above 
giants,  with  its  crest  to  the  stars,  and  its  form  an  eclipse 
between  the  sun  and  the  day.  The  earth  changed  to 
ocean,  and  the  ocean  was  blood,  and  the  ocean  seemed 
deep  as  the  seas  where  the  whales  sport  in  the  North, 
but  the  surge  rose  not  to  the  knee  of  that  measureless 
image.  And  the  ravens  came  round  it  from  all  parts  of  the 
heaven,  and  the  vultures  with  dead  eyes  and  dull  scream. 
And  all  the  bones,  before  scattered  and  shapeless,  spnuig 
to  life  and  to  form,  —  some  monks  and  some  warriors  ; 
and  there  was  a  hoot,  and  a  hiss,  and  a  roar,  and  the 
storm  of  arms.  And  a  broad  pennon  rose  out  of  the  sea 
of  blood,  and  from  the  clouds  came  a  pale  hand,  and  it 
wrote  on  the  pennon,  '  Harold  the  Accursed ! '  Then 
said  the  stern  shape  by  my  side,  '  Harold,  fearest  thou 
the  dead  men's  bones  1 '  and  its  voice  was  as  a  trumpet 
that  gives  strength  to  the  craven,  and  I  answered,  '  Nid- 
dering,  indeed,  were  Harold  to  fear  the  bones  of  the 
dead  ! ' 

"  As  I  spoke,  as  if  hell  had  burst  loose,  came  a  gibber 
of  scorn,  and  all  vanished  at  once,  save  the  ocean  of  blood. 
Slowly  came  from  the  north,  over  the  sea,  a  bird  like  a 
raven,  save  that  it  was  blood-red,  like  the  ocean ;  and 
there  came  from  the  south,  swimming  towards  me,  a  lion. 


150  HAROLD. 

And  I  looked  to  the  spectre,  and  the  pride  of  war  had 
gone  from  its  face,  which  was  so  sad,  that  methought  I 
forgot  raven  and  lion  and  wept  to  see  it.  Then  the  spec- 
tre took  me  in  its  vast  arms,  and  its  breath  froze  my 
veins,  and  it  kissed  my  brow  and  my  lips,  and  said, 
gently  and  fondly,  as  my  mother,  in  some  childish  sick- 
ness, '  Harold,  my  best  beloved,  mourn  not.  Thou  hast 
all  which  the  sons  of  Woden  dreamed  in  their  dreams  of 
Valhalla  !  '  Thus  saying,  the  form  receded  slowly, 
slowly,  still  gazing  on  me  with  its  sad  eyes.  I  stretched 
forth  my  hand  to  detain  it,  and  in  my  grasp  was  a 
shadowy  sceptre.  And  lo !  round  me,  as  if  from  the 
earth,  sprang  up  thegns  and  chiefs,  in  their  armor  ;  and  a 
board  was  spread,  and  a  wassail  was  blithe  around  me. 
So  my  heart  felt  cheered  and  light,  and  in  my  hand  was 
still  the  sceptre.  And  we  feasted  long  and  merrily  ;  but 
over  the  feast  flapped  the  wings  of  the  blood-red  raven, 
and  over  the  blood-red  sea  beyond  swam  the  lion,  near 
and  near.  And  in  the  heavens  there  were  two  stars,  one 
pale  and  steadfast,  the  other  rushing  and  luminous ;  and 
a  shadowy  hand  pointed  from  the  cloud  to  tlie  pale  star, 
and  a  voice  said,  '  Lo,  Harold  !  the  star  that  shone  ou 
thy  birth.'  And  another  hand  pointed  to  the  luminous 
star,  and  another  voice  said,  '  Lo  !  the  star  tliat  shone  on  the 
birth  of  the  victor.'  Then,  lo  !  the  bright  star  grew  fiercer 
and  larger ;  and,  rolling  on  with  a  hissing  sound,  as  when 
iron  is  dipped  into  water,  it  rushed  over  the  disk  of  the 
mournfiil  planet,  and  the  whole  heavens  seemed  on  fire. 
So  methought  the  dream  faded  away,  and  in  fading,  I 
heard  a  full  swell  of  music,  as  the  swell  of  an  antliem  in 
an  aisle  :  a  music  like  that  which  but  once  in  my  life  I 
heard,  —  when  I  stood  in  the  train  of  Edward,  in  the 
halls  of  Winchester,  the  day  they  crowned  him  king." 
Harold  ceased,  and   the  Vala  slowly  lifted   her  head 


HAROLD.  151 

from  her  bosom,  and  surveyed  him  in  profound  silence, 
and  with  a  gaze  that  seemed  vacant  and  meaningless. 

"  Why  dost  thou  look  on  me  thus,  and  why  art  thou 
so  silent  1 "  ask  the  earl. 

"  The  cloud  is  on  my  sight,  and  the  burden  is  on  my 
soul,  and  I  cannot  read  thy  rede,"  murmured  the  Vala. 
"  But  morn,  the  ghost-chaser,  that  waketh  life,  the  action, 
charms  into  slumber  life,  the  thought.  As  the  stars  pale 
at  the  rising  of  the  sun,  so  fade  the  lights  of  the  soul 
when  the  buds  revive  in  the  dews,  and  the  lark  sings  to 
the  day.  In  thy  dream  lies  thy  future,  as  the  wing  of 
the  moth  in  the  web  of  the  changing  worm  ;  but,  whether 
for  weal  or  for  woe,  thou  shalt  burst  through  thy  mesh, 
and  spread  thy  plumes  in  the  air.  Of  myself  I  know 
nought.  Await  the  hour  when  Skulda  shall  pass  into 
the  soul  of  her  servant,  and  thy  fate  shall  rush  from  my 
lips  as  the  rush  of  tlie  waters  from  the  heart  of  the 
cave." 

"  I  am  content  to  abide,"  said  Harold,  with  his  wonted 
smile,  so  calm  and  so  lofty  ;  "  but  I  cannot  promise  thee 
that  I  shall  heed  thy  rede,  or  obey  thy  warning,  when 
my  reason  hath  awoke,  as,  while  I  speak,  it  awakens 
from  the  fumes  of  the  fancy  and  the  mists  of  the  night." 

The  Vala  sighed  heavily,  but  made  no  answer. 


152  HA  BOLD. 


CHAPTER   III. 

GiTHA,  Earl  Godwin's  wife,  sat  in  her  chamber,  and  Tier 
heart  was  sad.  In  the  room  was  one  of  her  sons,  the  one 
dearer  to  her  than  all,  Wolnoth,  her  darling.  For  the 
rest  of  her  sons  were  stalwart  and  strong  of  frame,  and 
in  their  infancy  she  had  known  not  a  mother's  fears. 
But  Wolnoth  had  come  into  the  world  before  his  time, 
and  sharp  had  been  the  travail  of  the  mother,  and  long 
between  life  and  death  tlie  struggle  of  the  new-born  babe. 
And  his  cradle  had  been  rocked  with  a  tremblinsr  knee, 
and  his  pillow  been  bathed  with  hot  tears.  Frail  had 
been  his  childhood,  — ■  a  thing  that  hung  on  her  care  ; 
and  now  as  the  boy  grew,  blooming  and  strong,  into 
youth,  the  motlier  felt  that  she  had  given  life  twice  to 
her  child.  Tlierefore  was  he  more  dear  to  her  than  the 
rest ;  and,  therefore,  as  she  gazed  upon  him  now,  fair 
and  smiling  and  hopeful,  she  mourned  for  liim  more 
than  for  Sweyn,  the  outcast  and  criminal,  on  his  pilgri- 
mage of  woe  to  the  waters  of  Jordan  and  the  toml)  of 
our  Lord.  For  Wolnoth,  selected  as  the  hostage  for  the 
faith  of  his  house,  was  to  be  sent  from  her  arms  to  the 
court  of  William  the  Norman.  And  the  youth  smiled 
and  was  gay,  choosing  vestment  and  mantle,  and  ateghars 
of  gold,  that  he  might  be  flaunting  and  brave  in  the  halls 
of  knighthood  and  beauty,  —  the  school  of  the  proudest 
chivalry  of  the  Christian  world.  Too  young  and  too 
thoughtless  to  .share  the  wise  hate  of  his  elders  for  the 
manners  and  forms  of  the  foreigners,  their  gayety  and 


HAROLD.  153 

splendor,  as  his  boyhood  had  seen  them,  relieving  the 
gloom  of  the  cloister  court,  and  contrasting  the  spleen 
and  the  rudeness  of  the  Saxon  temperament,  had  dazzled 
his  fancy  and  half  Normanizod  his  mind.  A  proud 
and  happy  boy  was  he  to  go  as  hostage  for  the  faith,  and 
representative  of  the  rank  of  liis  mighty  kinsmen,  and 
step  into  manhood  in  the  eyes  of  the  dames  of  Rouen. 

By  Wolnoth's  side  stood  his  young  sister  Thyra,  a 
mere  infant  ;  and  her  innocent  sympathy  with  her 
brother's  pleasure  in  gaud  and  toy  saddened  Githa  yet 
more. 

"  0  my  son  !  ''  said  the  troubled  mother,  "  why,  of  all 
my  children,  have  they  chosen  thee  ]  Harold  is  wise 
against  danger,  and  Tostig  is  fierce  against  foes,  and  Gurth 
is  too  loving  to  wake  hate  in  the  sternest,  and  from  the 
mirth  of  sunny  Leofwine  sorrow  glints  aside,  as  the 
shaft  from  the  sheen  of  a  shield.  But  thou,  thou,  O 
beloved  !  —  cursed  be  the  king  that  chose  thee,  and 
cruel  was  the  father  that  forgot  the  light  of  the  mother's 
eyes  ! " 

"Tut,  mother  the  dearest,"  said  Wolnoth,  pausing  from 
the  contemplation  of  a  silk  robe,  all  covered  with  broidered 
peacocks,  which  had  been  sent  him  as  a  gift  from  his 
sister  the  (pieen,  and  wrought  with  her  own  fair  hands  ; 
for  a  notable  needlewoman,  despite  her  sage  leer,  was  the 
wife  of  the  Saint-King,  as  sorrowful  women  mostly  are, 
—  "  Tut  !  the  bird  must  leave  the  nest  when  the  wings 
are  fledged.  Harold  the  eagle,  Tostig  the  kite,  Gurtli 
the  ring-dove,  and  Leofwine  the  stare.  See,  ray  wings 
are  the  richest  of  all,  mother,  and  bright  is  the  sun  in 
which  thy  peacock  shall  spread  his  pranked  plumes." 

Then,  observing  that  his  liveliness  provoked  no  smile 
from  his  mother,  he  approached,  and  said  more  seriously,  — ■ 

"  Bethink  thee,  mother  mine.      No  other  choice  was 


154  HAROLD. 

left  to  king  or  to  father.  Harold  and  Tostig  and  Leof- 
wine  have  their  lordships  and  offices.  Their  jjosts  are 
fixed,  and  they  stand  as  the  columns  of  our  house.  And 
Gurth  is  so  young,  and  so  Saxish,  and  so  the  shadow  of 
Harold,  that  his  hate  to  the  Norman  is  a  by-word  already 
among  our  youths  ;  for  hate  is  the  more  marked  in  a 
temper  of  love,  as  the  blue  of  this  border  seems  black 
against  the  white  of  the  woof.  But  / — the  good  king 
knows  that  I  shall  be  welcome,  for  the  Norman  knights 
love  Wolnoth,  and  I  have  spent  h(jurs  by  the  knees  of 
Montgommeri  and  Grantmesnil,  listening  to  the  feats  of 
Kolfganger,  and  playing  with  their  gold  chains  of  knight- 
hood. And  the  stout  count  himself  shall  knight  me,  and 
I  shall  come  back  with  the  spurs  of  gold  which  thy 
ancestors,  the  brave  kings  of  Norway  and  Daneland,  wore 
ere  knighthood  was  known.  Come,  kiss  me,  my  mother, 
and  come  see  the  brave  falcons  Harold  has  sent  me,  — 
true  Welch  !  " 

Githa  rested  her  face  on  her  son's  shoulder,  and  her 
tears  blinded  her.  The  door  opened  gently,  and  Harold 
entered ;  and,  with  the  earl,  a  pale,  dark-haired  boy, 
Haco,  the  son  of  Sweyn. 

But  Githa,  absorbed  in  her  darling  Wolnoth,  scarce  saw 
the  grandchild  reared  afar  from  her  knees,  and  hurried  at 
once  to  Harold.  In  his  presence  she  felt  comfort  and 
safety  ;  for  Wolnoth  leaned  on  her  heart,  and  her  heart 
leaned  on  Harold. 

"  0  son,  son  !  "  she  cried,  "  firmest  of  hand,  surest  of 
faith,  and  wisest  of  brain,  in  the  house  of  Godwin,  tell 
me  that  he  yonder — he,  thy  young  brother  —  risks  no 
danger  in  the  halls  of  the  Normans  ! " 

"  Not  more  than  in  these,  mother,"  answered  Harold, 
soothing  her  with  caressing  lip  and  gentle  tone.  "  Fierce 
and  ruthless,  men  say,  is  William  the  Duke  against  foes 


HAROLD.  155 

with  their  swords  in  tlieir  hands,  but  debonnair  and  mild 
to  the  gentle/  frank  host  and  kind  lord.  And  these  Nor- 
mans have  a  code  of  their  own,  more  grave  than  all 
morals,  more  binding  than  even  their  fanatic  religion. 
Thou  knowest  it  well,  mother,  for  it  comes  from  thy 
race  of  the  North,  and  this  code  of  honor,  they  call  it, 
makes  Wolnoth's  head  as  sacred  as  the  relics  of  a  saint 
set  in  zimnies.  Ask  only,  my  brother,  when  thou  comest 
in  sight  of  the  Norman  Duke,  —  ask  only  '  the  kiss  of 
peace,'  and,  that  kiss  on  thy  brow,  thou  wilt  sleep  more 
safely  than  if  all  the  banners  of  England  waved  over  thy 
couch." ^ 

"But  how  long  shall  the  exile  be?"  asked  Githa, 
comforted. 

Harold's  brow  fell. 

"  Mother,  not  even  to  cheer  thee  will  I  deceive.  The 
time  of  the  hostageship  rests  with  the  king  and  the  duke. 
As  long  as  the  one  affects  fear  from  the  race  of  Godwin, 
as  long  as  the  other  feigns  care  for  such  priests  or  such 
knights  as  were  not  banished  from  the  realm,  being  not 
courtiers,  but  scattered  wide  and  far  in  convent  and 
homestead,  so  long  will  Wolnoth  and  Haco  be  guests  in 
the  Norman  Halls." 

Githa  wrung  her  hands. 

"  But  comfort,  my  mother  :  Wolnoth  is  young,  his  eye 
is  keen,  and  his  spirit  prompt  and  quick.      He  will  mark 

1  So  Robert  of  Gloucester  says  pithily  of  William,  "  Kyng 
Wylliam  was  to  mild  men  debomiere  ynou."  —  Hearne,  vol.  ii. 
p  309. 

-  This  kiss  of  peace  was  held  singularly  sacred  by  the  Normans, 
and  all  the  more  knightly  races  of  the  Continent.  Even  the 
craftiest  dissimulator,  designing  fraud  and  stratagem  and  murder 
to  a  foe,  would  not,  to  gain  his  ends,  betray  the  pledge  of  the  kiss 
of  peace.  When  Henry  II.  consented  to  meet  Becket  after  his 
return  from  Rome,  and  promised  to  remedy  all  of  which  his  pre- 
late complained,  he  struck  prophetic  dismay  into  Becket's  heart 
by  evading  the  kiss  of  peace. 


156  HAROLD. 

these  l!^orman  captains,  he  will  learn  tlieir  strength  and 
their  weakness,  their  manner  of  war ;  and  he  will  come 
back,  not  as  Edward  the  King  came,  a  lover  of  things 
un-Saxon,  but  able  to  warn  and  to  guide  us  against  the 
plots  of  the  camp-court,  which  threatens  more,  year  by 
year,  the  pence  of  tlie  world.  And  he  will  see  there  arts 
we  may  worthily  borrow  :  not  the  cut  of  a  tunic  and  the 
fold  of  a  gonna,  but  the  arts  of  men  who  found  states  and 
build  nations.  "William  the  Duke  is  splendid  and  wise  ; 
merchants  tell  us  how  crafts  thrive  under  his  iron  hand, 
and  warmen  say  that  his  forts  are  constructed  with  skill, 
and  his  battle-schemes  planned  as  the  mason  plans  key- 
stone and  arch,  with  weight  portioned  out  to  the  prop, 
and  the  force  of  the  hand  made  tenfold  by  the  science  of  the 
brain.  So  that  the  boy  will  return  to  us  a  man  roinid 
and  complete,  a  teacher  of  graybeards,  and  the  sage  of  his 
kin,  —  fit  for  earldom  and  rule,  fit  for  glory  and  England. 
Grieve  not,  daughter  of  the  Dane  kings,  tliat  tliy  son,  the 
best  loved,  hath  nobler  school  and  wider  field  than  his 
brothers." 

This  appeal  touched  the  proud  heart  of  the  niece  of 
Canute  the  Great,  and  she  almost  forgot  the  grief  of  her 
love  in  the  hope  of  her  ambition. 

She  dried  her  tears  and  smiled  upon  Wolnoth,  and 
already,  in  the  dreams  of  a  mother's  vanity,  saw  him 
great  as  Godwin  in  council,  and  prosperous  as  Harold  in 
the  field,  i^or,  half  Xorman  as  he  was,  did  the  young 
man  seem  insensible  of  the  manly  and  elevated  patriotism 
of  his  brother's  hinted  lessons,  though  he  felt  they  implied 
reproof.  He  came  to  the  earl,  whose  arm  was  round  his 
mother,  and  said,  with  a  frank  heartiness  not  usual  to  a 
nature  somewhat  frivolous  and  irresolute,  — 

"  Harold,  thy  tongue  could  kindle  stones  into  men, 
and  warm  those  men  into  Saxons.  Thy  Wolnoth  shall 
not  hang  his  head  with  shame  when  he  comes  back  to 


HAEOLD.  157 

our  merrie  land  with  shaven  locks  and  spurs  of  gold.  For 
if  thou  donbtest  his  race  from  his  look,  thou  shalt  put  thy 
right  hand  on  his  heart,  and  feel  England  beat  there  in 
every  pulse." 

"  Brave  words,  and  well  spoken,"  cried  the  earl,  and 
he  placed  his  hand  on  the  boy's  head  as  in  benison. 

Till  then,  Haco  had  stood  apart,  conversing  with  the 
infant  Thyra,  whom  his  dark,  mournful  face  awed  and 
yet  touched,  for  she  nestled  close  to  him,  and  put  her 
little  hand  in  his  ;  but  now,  inspired  no  less  than  his 
cousin  by  Harold's  noble  speech,  he  came  proudly  for- 
ward by  Wolnoth's  side,  and  said,  — 

"  I,  too,  am  English,  and  I  have  the  naiue  of  English- 
man to  redeem." 

Ere  Harold  could  reply,  Githa  exclaimed,  — 

"Leave  there  thy  right  hand  on  my  child's  head,  and 
say,  simply,  '  By  my  troth  and  my  plight,  if  the  duke 
detain  Wolnoth,  son  of  Githa,  against  just  plea  and 
king's  assent  to  his  return,  I,  Harold,  will,  failing  letter 
and  nuncius,  cross  the  seas  to  restore  the  child  to  the 
mother.'  " 

Harold  hesitated. 

A  sharp  cry  of  reproach  that  went  to  his  heart  broke 
from  Gitlia's  lips. 

"  Ah  !  cold  and  self-heeding,  wilt  thou  send  him  to  bear 
a  peril  from  which  thou  shrinkest  thyself  1 " 

"  By  my  troth  and  my  plight,  then,"  said  the  earl,  "  if, 
fair  time  elapsed,  peace  in  England,  without  plea  of 
justice,  and  against  my  king's  fiat,  Duke  William  of 
Normandy  detain  the  hostages,  —  thy  son  and  this  dear 
boy,  more  sacred  and  more  dear  to  me  for  his  father's 
woes,  —  I  will  cross  the  seas  to  restore  the  child  to  the 
mother,  the  fatherless  to  his  fatherland.  So  help  me, 
all-seeing  One,  Amen  and  Amen  ! " 


158  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

We  have  seen,  in  an  earlier  part  of  this  record,  that 
Harold  possessed,  amongst  his  numerous  and  more  stately 
possessions,  a  house,  not  far  from  the  old  Roman  dwell- 
ing-place of  Hilda ;  and  in  this  residence  he  now  (save 
Avlien  with  the  king)  made  his  chief  abode.  He  gave,  as 
the  reasons  for  his  selection,  the  charm  it  took,  in  his 
eyes,  from  that  signal  mark  of  affection  wliich  his  ceorls 
had  rendered  him,  in  purchasing  the  house  and  tilling  the 
ground  in  his  absence  ;  and  more  especially  the  conven- 
ience of  its  vicinity  to  the  new  palace  at  Westminster ; 
for,  by  Edward's  special  desire,  while  the  other  brothers 
repaired  to  their  different  domains,  Harold  remained  near 
his  royal  person.  To  use  the  words  of  the  great  Norwe- 
gian chronicler,  "  Harold  was  always  with  the  court 
itself,  and  nearest  to  the  king  in  all  service."  "  The 
king  loved  him  very  much,  and  kept  him  as  his  own  son, 
for  he  had  no  children."  ^  This  attendance  on  Edward 
was  naturally  most  close  at  the  restoration  to  power  of 
the  earl's  family.  For  Harold,  mild  and  conciliating,  was, 
like  Aired,  a  great  peacemaker,  and  Edward  had  never 
cause  to  complain  of  him,  as  he  believed  he  had  of  the 
rest  of  that  haughty  house.  But  the  true  spell  which 
made  dear  to  Harold  the  rude  building  of  timber,  with 
its  doors  open  all  day  to  its  lithsmen,  when  with  a  light 
heart  he  escaped  from  the  halls  of  Westminster,  was  the 
fair  face  of  Edith  his  neighbor.     The  impression  which 

1  Snorro    Sturleson's    "  HeimskriDgla  "  —  Laiiig's  Translation, 
pp.  75-77. 


HAROLD.  159 

this  young  girl  had  made  upon  Harold  seemed  to  partake 
of  the  strength  of  a  fatality.  For  Harold  had  loved  her 
before  the  marvellous  beauty  of  her  womanhood  began  ; 
and,  occupied  from  his  earliest  youth  in  grave  and  earnest 
affairs,  his  heart  had  never  been  frittered  away  on  the 
mean  and  frivolous  affections  of  the  idle.  Now,  in  that 
comparative  leisure  of  his  stormy  life,  he  was  naturally 
most  open  to  the  influence  of  a  charm  more  potent  thari 
all  the  glamoury  of  Hilda. 

Tiie  autumn  sun  shone  through  the  golden  glades  of 
the  forest-land,  when  Edith  sat  alone  on  the  knoll  that 
faced  forest-land  and  road,  and  watched  afar. 

And  the  birds  sung  cheerily  ;  but  that  was  not  the 
sound  for  which  Edith  listened :  and  the  squirrel  darted 
from  tree  to  tree  on  the  sward  beyond  ;  but  not  to  see 
the  games  of  the  sqiurrel  sat  Editli  by  the  grave  of  the 
Teuton.  By  and  by  came  the  cry  of  the  dogs,  and  the 
tall  gre-hound  ^  of  Wales  emerged  from  the  bosky  dells. 
Then  Edith's  heart  heaved  and  her  eyes  brightened.  And 
now,  with  his  hawk  on  his  wrist  and  his  spear  ^  in  his 
hand,  came  through  the  yellowing  boughs  Harold  the  Earl. 

And  well  may  ye  ween  that  his  heart  beat  as  loud  and 
his  eye  shone  as  bright  as  Edith's,  when  he  saw  who 
had  watched  for  his  footsteps  on  the  sepulchral  knoll : 
Love,  forgetful  of  the  presence  of  Death  ;  - —  so  has  it 
ever  been,  so  ever  shall  it  be !  He  hastened  his  stride, 
and  bounded  up  the  gentle  hillock,  and  his  dogs,  with  a 
joyous  bark,  came  round  the  knees  of  Edith.  Then 
Harold  shook  the  bird  from  his  wrist,  and  it  fell,  with  its 
light  wing,  on  the  altar-stone  of  Thor. 

1  The  gre-hound  was  so  called  from  hunting  the  gre,  or  hadger. 

2  The  spear  and  the  hawk  were  as  the  badges  of  Saxon  nobility ; 
and  a  thegu  was  seldom  seen  abroad  without  the  one  on  his  left 
•wrist,  the  otlier  in  his  right  hand. 


160  HAROLD. 

"  Thou  art  late,  but  thou  art  welcome,  Harold,  my 
kinsman,"  said  Edith,  simply,  as  she  bent  her  face  over 
the  hounds,  whose  gaunt  heads  she  caressed. 

"  Call  me  not  kinsman,"  saitl  Harold,  shrinking,  and 
with  a  dark  cloud  on  his  broad  brow. 

"And  why,  Harold?" 

"Oh,  Edith,  why?"  murmured  Harold;  and  his  thought 
added,  "  she  knows  not,  poor  child,  that  in  that  mockery 
of  kinship  the  Church  sets  its  ban  on  our  bridals." 

He  turned,  and  chid  his  dogs  fiercely  as  they  gam- 
bolled in  rough  glee  round  their  fair  friend. 

The  hounds  crouched  at  the  feet  of  Edith  ;  and  Edith 
looked  in  mild  wonder  at  the  troubled  face  of  the  earl. 

"  Thine  eyes  rebuke  me,  Edith,  more  than  my  words 
the  hounds !  "  said  Harold,  gently.  "  But  there  is  quick 
blood  in  my  veins  ;  and  the  mind  must  be  calm  when  it 
would  control  the  humor.  Calm  was  my  mind,  sweet 
Edith,  in  the  old  time,  when  thou  wert  an  infant  on  my 
knee,  and  wreathing,  with  these  rude  hands,  flower-chains 
for  thy  neck  like  the  swan's  down.  I  said,  '  The  flowers 
fade,  but  the  chain  lasts  when  love  weaves  it.'" 

Edith  again  bent  her  face  over  the  crouching  hounds, 
Harold  gazed  on  her  with  mournful  fondness ;  and  the 
bird  still  sung,  and  the  squirrel  swung  himself  again  from 
bough  to  bough.     Edith  spoke  first:  — 

"  My  godmother,  thy  sister,  hath  sent  for  me,  Harold, 
and  I  am  to  go  to  the  court  to-morrow.  Shalt  thou  be 
there  ? " 

"Surely,"  said  Harold,  in  an  anxious  voice —  "surely, 
I  will  be  tliere  !  So  my  sister  hath  sent  for  thee,  — 
wittest  thou  wherefore  1 " 

Edith  grew  very  pale,  and  her  tone  trembled  as  she 
answered,  — 

"  Well-a-day,  yes." 


HAROLD.  161 

"■  It  is  as  I  feared,  then  !  "  exclaimed  Harold,  in  great 
agitation;  "and  my  sister,  whom  these  monks  have 
demented,  leagues  herself  with  the  king  against  the  law 
of  the  wide  welkin  and  the  grand  religion  of  the  human 
heart.  Oh  !  "  continued  the  earl,  kindling  into  an  enthu- 
siasm, rare  to  his  even  moods,  but  wrung  as  much  from 
his  broad  sense  as  from  his  strong  affection,  "when  I 
compare  the  Saxon  of  our  land  and  day,  all  enervated  and 
decrepit  by  priestly  superstition,  with  Ids  forefathers  in 
the  first  Christian  era,  yielding  to  the  religion  tliey 
adopted  in  its  sim])le  truths,  but  not  to  that  rot  of  social 
happiness  and  free  manhood  which  this  cold  and  lifeless 
monarchism  —  making  virtue  the  absence  of  human  ties 

—  spreads  around,  whicli  the  great  Bede,^  though  himself 
a  monk,  vainly  but  bitterly  denounced  ; —  yea,  verily,  when 
I  see  the  Saxon  already  the  theowe  of  the  priest,  I  shud- 
der to  ask  how  long  he  will  be  folk-free  of  the  tyrant." 

He  jiaused,  breathed  hard,  and  seizing,  almost  sternly, 
the  girl's  trembling  arm,  he  resumed  between  his  set 
teeth:  "So  they  would  have  thee  be  a  nun?  —  Thou 
wilt  not  —  thou  durst  not;  thy  heart  would  perjure  thy 
vows ! " 

"  Ah,  Harold ! "  answered  Edith,  moved  out  of  all 
bashfulness  by  his  emotion  and  her  own  terror  of  the 
convent,  and  answering,  if  with  the  love  of  a  woman, 
still  with  all  the  unconsciousness  of  a  child,  —  "  better, 
oh,  better  the  grate  of  the  body  than  that  of  the  heart  ! 

—  In  the  grave  I  could  still  live  for  those  I  love  ;  be- 
hind the  Grate,  love  itself  must  be  dead.  Yes,  thou 
pitiest  me,  Harold  ;  thy  sister,  the  queen,  is  gentle  and 
kind  ;  I  will  fling  myself  at  her  feet,  and  say,  '  Youth  is 
fond,  and  the  world  is  fair  :  let  me  live  my  youth,  and 
bless  God  in  the  world  that  He  saw  was  good  ! ' " 

1  Bed.  :  "  Epist.  ad  Egbert," 

VOL.  I.  —  11 


162  HAROLD. 

"  My  own,  own  dear  Edith  !  "  exclaimed  Harold,  over- 
joyed. "  Say  this.  Be  firm  ;  they  cannot,  and  they  dare 
not  force  thee  !  The  law  cannot  wrench  thee  against  tliy 
will  from  the  ward  of  thy  guardian  Hilda  ;  and  where 
the  law  is,  there  Harold  at  least  is  strong,  —  and  there  at 
least  our  kinship,  if  my  bane,  is  thy  blessing." 

"  Why,  Harold,  sayest  thou  that  our  kinship  is  thy 
bane  ?  It  is  so  sweet  to  me  to  whisper  to  myself,  '  Har- 
old is  of  thy  kith,  though  distant ;  and  it  is  natural  to 
thee  to  have  pride  in  his  fame  and  joy  in  his  presence  ! ' 
Why  is  that  sweetness  to  me,  to  thee  so  bitter  1  " 

"  Because,"  answered  Harold,  dropping  the  hand  he 
had  clasped,  and  folding  his  arms  in  deep  dejection — ■ 
"  because  but  for  that  I  should  say,  '  Edith,  I  love  thee 
more  than  a  brother :  Edith,  be  Harold's  wife  ! '  And 
were  I  to  say  it,  and  were  we  to  wed,  all  the  priests  of 
the  Saxons  would  lift  up  tlieir  hands  in  horror,  and  curse 
our  nuptials  ;  and  I  should  be  the  bann'd  of  that  spectre 
the  Church  ;  and  my  house  would  shake  to  its  founda- 
tions ;  and  my  father,  and  my  brothers,  and  the  thegns, 
and  the  proceres,  and  the  abbots  and  prelates,  whose  aid 
makes  our  force,  would  gatlier  round  me  with  threats 
and  with  prayers  that  I  might  put  thee  aside.  And 
mighty  as  I  am  now,  so  mighty  once  was  Sweyn  my 
brother  ;  and  outlaw  as  Sweyn  is  now,  might  Harold  be  ; 
and  outlaw  if  Harold  were,  what  breast  so  broad  as  his 
could  fill  up  the  gap  left  in  the  defence  of  England  ? 
And  the  passions  that  I  curb,  as  a  rider  his  steed,  might 
break  their  rein ;  and,  strong  in  justice,  and  child  of 
Nature,  I  might  come,  with  banner  and  mail,  against 
Church,  and  House,  and  Fatherland  ;  and  the  blood  of 
my  countrymen  might  be  poured  like  water  :  and  there- 
fore, slave  to  the  lying  thraldom  he  despises,  Harold 
dares  not  say  to  the  maid  of  his  love,  '  Give  me  thy  right 
hand,  and  be  my  bride  ! '  " 


HAKOLD.  ]63 

Edith  had  listened  in  bewilderment  and  despair,  her 
eyes  fixed  on  his,  and  her  face  locked  and  rigid,  as  if 
turned  to  stone.  But  when  he  had  ceased,  and,  moving 
some  steps  away,  turned  aside  his  manly  countenance 
that  Edith  might  not  perceive  its  anguish,  the  noble  and 
sublime  spirit  of  that  sex  which  ever,  when  lowliest,  most 
comprehends  the  lofty,  rose  superior  both  to  love  and  to 
grief ;  and  rising,  she  advanced,  and  placing  her  slight 
hand  on  his  stalwart  shoulder,  she  said,  half  in  pit)',  half 
in  reverence,  — 

"IS^ever  before,  0  Harold,  did  I  feel  so  proud  of  thee  : 
for  Edith  could  not  love  thee  as  she  doth,  and  will  till 
the  grave  clasp  her,  if  thou  didst  not  love  England  more 
than  Edith.  Harold,  till  this  hour  I  was  a  child,  and  I 
knew  not  my  own  heart :  I  look  now  into  that  heart,  and 
I  see  that  I  am  woman.  Harold,  of  the  cloister  I  have 
now  no  fear  ;  and  all  life  does  not  shrink  —  no,  it  enlarges, 
and  it  soars  into  one  desire  —  to  be  worthy  to  pray  for 
thee  !  " 

"  Maid,  maid  !  "  exclaimed  Harold,  abruptly,  and  pale 
as  the  dead,  "  do  not  say  thou  hast  no  fear  of  the  cloister. 
I  adjure,  I  command  thee,  build  not  up  between  us  that 
dismal,  everlasting  wall.  While  thou  art  free,  Hope  yet 
survives,  —  a  phantom,  haply,  but  Hope  still." 

"  As  thou  wilt,  I  will,"  said  Edith,  humbly  :  "  order  my 
fate  so  as  pleases  thee  the  best." 

Then,  not  daring  to  trust  herself  longer,  for  she  felt  the 
tears  rushing  to  her  eyes,  she  turned  a\Vay  hastily,  and 
left  him  alone  beside  the  altar-stone  and  the  tomb. 


164  HAllOLD. 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  next  day,  as  Harold  was  entering  the  palace  of 
"Westminster,  with  intent  to  seek  the  king's  lady,  his 
father  met  him  in  one  of  the  corridors,  and  taking  him 
gravely  by  the  hand,  said,  — 

"  My  son,  I  have  much  on  my  mind  regarding  thee  and 
our  House  ;  come  with  me." 

"  Xay,"  said  the  earl,  "  by  your  leave,  let  it  be  later  ; 
for  I  have  it  on  hand  to  see  my  sister,  ere  confessor,  or 
monk,  or  schoolman,  claim  her  hours  ! " 

"  Not  so,  Harold,"  said  tlie  earl,  briefly.  "  My  daughter 
is  now  in  her  oratory,  and  we  shall  have  time  enow  to 
treat  of  things  mundane  ere  she  is  free  to  receive  thee, 
and  to  preach  to  thee  of  things  ghostly,  the  last  miracle 
at  St.  Alban's,  or  the  last  dream  of  the  king,  who  would 
be  a  great  man  and  a  stirring,  if  as  restless  when  awake 
as  he  is  in  his  sleep.     Come." 

Harold,  in  that  filial  obedience  which  belonged,  as  of 
course,  to  his  antique  cast  of  character,  made  no  farther 
effort  to  escape,  but  with  a  sigh  followed  Godwin  into 
one  of  the  contiguous  chambers. 

"Harold,"  then  said  Earl  Godwin,  after  closing  the 
door  carefully,  "  thou  must  not  let  the  king  keep  thee 
longer  in  dalliance  and  idleness :  thine  earldom  needs 
thee  without  delay.  Thou  knowest  that  these  East 
Angles,  as  we  Saxons  still  call  them,  are  in  truth  mostly 
Danes  and  Norsemen,  —  a  jieople  jealous  and  fierce  and 
free,  and  more  akin  to  the  Normans  than  to  the  Saxons. 


HAROLD.  165 

My  whole  power  in  England  hath  been  founded,  not  less 
on  my  common  birth  with  the  free  folk  of  Wessex,  — 
Saxons  like  myself,  and  therefore  easy  fc)r  me,  a  Saxon, 
to  conciliate  and  control,  —  than  on  the  hold  I  have  ever 
sought  to  establish,  whether  by  arms  or  by  arts,  over  the 
Danes  in  the  realm.  And  I  tell  and  I  warn  thee,  Harold, 
as  the  natural  heir  of  my  greatness,  that  he  who  cannot 
command  the  stout  hearts  of  the  Anglo-Danes  will  never 
maintain  the  race  of  Godwin  in  the  post  they  have  won 
in  the  vanguard  of  Saxon  England." 

"  This  I  wot  well,  my  father,"  answered  Harold  ;  "  and 
I  see  with  joy  that  while  those  descendants  of  heroes  and 
freemen  are  blended  indissolubly  with  the  meeker  Saxon, 
their  freer  laws  and  hardier  manners  are  gradually  sup- 
planting, or  rather  regenerating,  our  own." 

Godwin  smiled  approvingly  on  his  son,  and  then  Ids 
brow  becoming  serious,  and  the  dark  pupil  of  his  blue 
eye  dilating,  lie  resumed,  — • 

"  This  is  well,  my  son ;  and  hast  thou  thouglit  also, 
that  while  thou  art  loitering  in  these  galleries,  amidst  the 
ghosts  of  men  in  monk  cowls,  Siward  is  shadowing  our 
House  with  his  glory,  and  all  north  the  Humber  rings 
with  his  name  1  Hast  thou  thought  that  all  Mercia  is  in 
the  hands  of  Leofric  our  rival,  and  that  Algar  his  son, 
who  ruled  Wessex  in  my  absence,  left  there  a  name  so 
beloved,  that,  had  I  stayed  a  year  longer,  the  cry  had  been 
'Algar' not  'Godwin'?  —  for  so  is  the  multitude  ever! 
Now  aid  me,  Harold,  for  my  soul  is  troubled,  and  I  can- 
not work  alone  ;  and  though  I  say  nought  to  others,  my 
heart  received  a  deathblow  when  tears  fell  from  its  blood- 
springs  on  the  brow  of  Sweyn,  my  first-born."  The  old 
man  paused,  and  his  lip  quivered. 

"Thou,  thou  alone,  Harold,  noble  boy — thou  alone 
didst  stand  by  his  side  in  the  hall  ;  almio,  alone,  and   I 


166  HAROLD. 

blessed  thee  in  that  hour  over  all  the  rest  of  my  sons. 
Well,  well  !  now  to  earth  again.  Aid  me,  Harold.  I 
open  to  thee  my  web :  complete  the  woof  when  this  hand 
is  cold.  The  new  tree  that  stands  alone  in  the  plain  is 
soon  nipped  by  the  winter  ,•  fenced  round  with  the  forest, 
its  youth  takes  shelter  from  its  fellows,  i  So  is  it  with  a 
house  newly  founded  :  it  must  win  strength  from  the 
allies  that  it  sets  round  its  slender  stem.  What  had 
been  Godwin,  son  of  Wolnoth,  had  he  not  married  into 
the  kingly  house  of  great  Canute  1  It  is  this  that  gives 
my  sons  now  the  right  to  the  loyal  love  of  the  Danes. 
The  throne  passed  from  Canute  and  his  race,  and  the 
Saxons  again  had  their  hour  ;  and  I  gave,  as  Jephtha  gave 
his  daughter,  my  blooming  Edith,  to  the  cold  bed  of  the 
Saxon  king.  Had  sons  sprung  from  that  union,  the 
grandson  of  Godwin,  royal  alike  from  Saxon  and  Dane, 
would  reign  on  the  throne  of  the  isle.  Fate  ordered 
otherwise,  and  the  spider  must  weave  web  anew.  Thy 
brother  Tostig  has  added  more  splendor  than  solid  strength 
to  our  line,  in  his  marriage  with  the  daughter  of  Baldwin 
the  Count.  The  foreigner  helps  us  little  in  England. 
Thou,  0  Harold,  must  bring  new  props  to  the  House.  I 
would  rather  see  thee  wed  to  the  child  of  one  of  our 
great  rivals  than  to  the  daughter  of  kaisar,  or  outland 
king.  Siward  hath  no  daughter  undisposed  of.  Algar, 
son  of  Leofric,  hath  a  daughter  fair  as  the  fairest ;  make 
her  thy  bride,  that  Algar  may  cease  to  be  a  foe.  This 
alliance  will  render  Mercia,  in  truth,  subject  to  our  prin- 
cipalities, since  the  stronger  must  quell  the  weaker.  It 
doth  more.  Algar  himself  has  married  into  the  royalty 
of  Wales.^     Thou  wilt  win  all  those  fierce  tribes  to  thy 

1  Teigner's  "  Frithiof." 

2  Some  of  the  chronicler.s  say  that  he  married  the  dausjhter  of 
Gryffyth,  the  king  of  North  Wales,  but  Gryffyth  certaiuly  married 


HAROLD.  167 

side.  Their  forces  will  gain  thee  the  marches,  now  held 
so  freely  under  Rolf  the  Norman  ;  and,  in  case  of  brief 
reverse  or  sharp  danger,  their  mountains  will  give  refuge 
from  all  foes  This  day,  greeting  Algar,  he  told  me  he 
meditated  bestowing  his  daughter  on  Gryffyth,  the  rebel 
under-king  of  North  Wales.  Therefore,"  continued  the 
old  earl,  with  a  smile,  "  thou  must  si)eak  in  time,  and  win 
and  woo  in  the  same  breath.  No  hard  task,  methinks, 
for  Harold  of  the  golden  tongue." 

''  Sir,  and  father,"  replied  the  young  earl,  whom  the 
long  speech  addressed  to  him  had  prepared  for  its  close, 
and  whose  habitual  self-control  saved  him  from  disclosing 
his  emotion,  "  I  thank  you  duteously  for  your  care  for 
my  future,  and  hope  to  profit  by  your  wisdom.  I  will 
ask  the  king's  leave  to  go  to  my  East  Anglians,  and  hold 
there  a  folkmuth,  administer  justice,  redress  grievances, 
and  make  thegn  and  ceorl  content  with  Harold,  their 
earl.  But  vain  is  peace  in  the  realm,  if  there  is  strife  in 
the  house.  And  Aldyth,  the  daughter  of  Algar,  cannot 
be  housewife  to  me." 

"  Why  V  asked  the  old  earl,  calmly,  and  surveying  his 
son's  face  with  those  eyes  so  clear  yet  so  unfathomable. 

"  Because,  though  I  grant  her  fair,  she  pleases  not  my 
fancy,  nor  would  give  warmth  to  my  hearth.  Because, 
as  thou  knowest  well,  Algar  and  I  have  ever  been  opposed, 
both  in  camp  and  in  council  ;  and  I  am  not  the  man  who 
can  sell  my  love,  though  I  may  stifle  my  anger.  Earl 
Harold  needs  no  bride  to  bring  spearmen  to  his  back  at 
his  need  ;  and  his  lordships  he  will  guard  with  the  shield 
of  a  man,  not  the  spindle  of  a  woman." 

"  Said  in  spite  and  in  error,"  replied  the  old  earl,  coolly. 

Algar's  daughter,  and  that  doulde  alliance  could  not  have  been 
permitted.  It  was  probably,  therefore,  some  more  distant  kins- 
woman of  Gryffyth's  that  was  united  to  Algar. 


168  HAEOLD. 

"  Small  pain  had  it  given  thee  to  forgive  Algar  old  quar. 
rels,  and  clasp  his  hand  as  a  father-in-law,  if  thou  hadst 
had  for  his  daughter  what  the  great  are  forbidden  t(j  re- 
gard save  as  a  folly." 

"  Is  love  a  folly,  my  father  ?  " 

"  Surely,  yes,"  said  the  earl,  with  some  sadness,  — 
"  surely,  yes  ;  for  those  who  know  that  life  is  made  up  of 
business  and  care,  spun  out  in  long  years,  not  counted  by 
the  joys  of  an  hour.  Surely,  yes  ;  thinkest  thou  that  I 
loved  my  first  wife,  the  proud  sister  of  Canute,  or  that 
Edith,  thy  sister,  loved  Edward,  when  he  placed  the  crown 
on  her  head  !  " 

"  My  father,  in  Edith,  my  sister,  our  House  hath 
sacrificed  enow  to  selfish  power." 

"  I  grant  it,  to  selfish  power,"  answered  the  eloquent 
old  man,  "but  not  enow  for  England's  safety.  Look 
to  it,  Harold;  thy  years,  and  thy  fame,  and  thy  state, 
place  thee  free  from  my  control  as  a  fatlier,  but  not  till 
thou  sleepest  in  thy  cerements  art  thou  free  from  that 
father,  — thy  land!  Ponder  it  in  thine  own  wise  miiul, 
—  wiser  already  than  that  which  speaks  to  it  under  the 
hood  of  gray  hairs.  Ponder  it,  and  ask  thyself  if  thy 
power,  when  I  am  dead,  is  not  necessary  to  the  weal  of 
England  ;  and  if  aught  that  thy  schemes  can  suggest 
would  so  strengthen  that  power,  as  to  find  in  the  heart 
of  the  kingdom  a  host  of  friends  like  the  Mercians  ;  — 
or  if  there  could  be  a  trouble,  and  a  bar  to  thy  great- 
ness, a  wall  in  thy  path,  or  a  thorn  in  thy  side,  like  the 
hate  or  the  jealousy  of  Algar,  the  son  of  Leofric  !  " 

Thus  addressed,  Harold's  face,  before  serene  and  calm, 
grew  overcast,  and  he  felt  the  force  of  his  father's  words 
when  appealing  to  his  reason, — not  to  his  aff"eotions. 
The  old  man  saw  the  advantage  he  had  gained,  and  pru- 
dently forbore  to  press  it.     Rising,  he  drew  round  him 


HAROLD,  169 

his  sweeping  gonna  lined  with   furs,  and  only  when  he 
leached  the  door,  he  added  :  — 

"  The  old  see  afar ;  they  stand  on  the  height  of  experi- 
ence, as  a  warder  on  the  crown  of  a  tower  ;  and  I  tell 
thee,  Harold,  that  if  thou  let  slip  this  golden  occasion, 
years  hence  —  long  and  many  —  thou  wilt  rue  the  loss 
of  the  hour.  And  that,  unless  Mercia,  as  the  centre  of 
the  kingdom,  be  reconciled  to  thy  power,  thou  wilt  stand 
high  indeed,  —  but  on  the  shelf  of  a  precipice.  And  if, 
as  I  suspect,  thou  lovest  some  other,  wlio  now  clouds  thy 
perception,  and  will  then  check  thy  ambition,  thou  wilt 
break  her  heart  with  thy  desertion,  or  gnaw  thine  own 
with  regret.  For  love  dies  in  possession,  — ambition  has 
no  fruition,  and  so  lives  forever." 

"  That  ambition  is  not  mine,  my  father,"  exclaimed 
Harold,  earnestly  ;  "  I  have  not  thy  love  of  power,  glori- 
ous in  thee,  even  in  its  extremes.     I  have  not  thy  —  " 

"  Seventy  years  ! "  interrupted  the  old  man,  concluding 
the  sentence.  "  At  seventy  all  men  who  have  been  great 
will  speak  as  I  do  ;  yet  all  will  have  known  love.  Thou 
not  ambitious,  Harf>ld  ?  Thou  knowest  not  thyself,  nor 
knowest  thou  yet  what  ambition  is.  That  which  I  see 
far  before  me  as  thy  natural  prize,  I  dare  not,  or  I  will  not 
say.  When  time  sets  that  prize  within  reach  of  thy 
spear's  point,  say  then,  '  I  am  not  ambitious  ! '  Ponder 
and  decide." 

And  Harold  pondered  long,  and  decided  not  as  God- 
win could  have  wished.  For  he  had  not  the  seventy 
years  of  his  father,  and  the  prize  lay  yet  in  the  womb  of 
the  mountains  ;  though  the  dwarf  and  the  gnome  were 
already  fashioning  the  ore  to  the  shape  of  a  crown. 


170  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

While  Harold  mused  over  his  father's  words,  Edith, 
seated  on  a  low  stool  beside  the  Lady  of  England,  lis- 
tened with  earnest  but  mournful  reverence  to  her  royal 
namesake. 

The  queen's^  closet  opened,  like  the  king's,  on  one 
hand  to  an  oratory,  on  the  other  to  a  spacious  anteroom ; 
the  lower  part  of  the  walls  was  covered  with  arras,  leav- 
ing space  for  a  niche  that  contained  an  image  of  the 
Virgin.  Near  the  doorway  to  the  oratory,  was  tlie  stoupe 
or  aspersorium  for  holy  water  ;  and  in  various  cysts  and 
crypts,  in  either  room,  were  caskets  containing  the  relics 
of  saints.  The  purple  light  from  the  stained  glass  of  a 
high,  narrow  window  shaped  in  the  Saxon  arch,  streamed 
ricli  and  full  over  the  queen's  bended  head  like  a  glory, 
and  tinged  her  pale  cheek,  as  with  a  maiden  blush ;  and 
she  might  have  furnished  a  sweet  model  for  early  artist, 
in  his  dreams  of  St.  Mary  the  Mother,  not  when,  young 
and  blest,  she  held  the  divine  Infant  in  her  arms,  but 
when  sorrow  had  reached  even  the  immaculate  bosom, 
and  the  stone  had  been  rolled  over  the  Holy  Sepulchre. 
For  beautiful  the  face  still  was,  and  mild  beyond  all 
words  ;  but,  beyond  all  words  also,  sad  in  its  tender 
resignation. 

And  thus  said  the  queen  to  her  godchild :  — 

1  The  title  of  queen  is  employed  in  these  pages  as  one  which 
our  historians  have  unhesitatingly  given  to  the  consorts  of  our 
Saxon  kings ;  hut  th.e  usual  and  correct  designation  of  Edward's 
royal  wife,  in  her  own  time,  would  be  Edith  the  Lady. 


HAROLD.  171 

"Why  dost  thou  hesitate  and  turn  away?  Thinkest 
thou,  poor  child,  in  thine  ignorance  of  life,  that  the  world 
ever  can  give  thee  a  bliss  greater  than  the  calm  of  the 
cloister !  Pause,  and  ask  thyself,  young  as  thou  art,  if 
all  the  true  happiness  thou  hast  known  is  not  bounded 
to  hope.     As  long  as  thou  hopest  thou  art  happy." 

Edith  sighed  deeply,  and  moved  her  young  head  in 
involuntary  acquiescence. 

"  And  what  is  life  to  the  nun,  but  hope  1  In  that  hope 
she  knows  not  the  present,  she  lives  in  the  future  ;  she 
hears  ever  singing  the  chorus  of  the  angels,  as  St.  Dun- 
stan  heard  theiu  sing  at  the  birth  of  Edgar,^  That  hope 
i;nfolds  to  her  the  heiligthum  of  the  future.  On  earth 
her  body,  in  heaven  her  soul !  " 

"  And  her  heart,  0  Lady  of  England  1  "  cried  Edith, 
with  a  sharp  pang. 

The  queen  paused  a  moment,  and  laid  her  pale  hand 
kindly  on  Edith's  bosom. 

"Not  beating,  child,  as  thine  does  now,  with  vain 
thoughts,  and  worklly  desires  ;  but  calm,  calm  as  mine 
It  is  in  our  power,"  resumed  the  queen,  after  a  second 
pause  —  "it  is  in  our  power  to  make  the  life  within  us 
all  soul,  so  that  the  heart  is  not,  or  is  felt  not ;  so  that 
grief  and  joy  have  no  power  over  us  ;  so  that  we  look 
tranquil  on  the  stormy  earth,  as  yon  image  of  the  Virgin, 
whom  we  make  our  example,  looks  from  the  silent  niclie. 
Listen,  my  godchild  and  darling.  I  have  known  human 
state  and  human  debasement.  In  these  halls  I  woke 
Lady  of  England,  and  ere  sunset  my  lord  banished  me, 
without  one  mark  of  honor,  without  one  word  of  com- 
fort, to  the  convent  of  Wherwell ;  —  my  father,  my 
mother,  my  kin,  all  in  exile  ;  and  my  tears  falling  fast 
for  them,  but  not  on  a  husband's  bosom." 

1  Ethel.  :  "De  Gen.  Keg.  Aug." 


172  HAROLD. 

"Ah,  then,  noble  Edith,"  said  the  girl,  coloring  with 
anger  at  the  remembered  wrong  for  her  queen,  —  "  ah, 
then,  surely  at  least  thy  heart  made  itself  heard." 

"  Heard  !  yea,  verily,"  said  the  queen,  looking  up,  and 
pressing  her  hands ;  "  heard,  but  the  soul  rebuked  it. 
And  the  soul  said,  '  Blessed  are  they  that  mourn  ; '  and  I 
rejoiced  at  the  new  trial  which  brought  me  nearer  to  Him 
who  chastens  those  He  loves." 

"  But  thy  banished  kin,  —  the  valiant,  the  wise  ;  they 
who  placed  thy  lord  on  the  throne  ?  " 

"  Was  it  no  comfort."  answered  the  queen,  simply,  "  to 
think  that  in  the  House  of  God  my  prayers  for  tliem 
woidd  be  more  accepted  than  in  the  hall  of  kings?  Yes, 
my  child,  I  have  known  the  world's  honor,  and  the 
Avorld's  disgrace,  and  I  have  schooled  my  heart  to  be 
calm  in  both." 

"  Ah,  thou  art  above  human  strength.  Queen  and 
Saint,"  exclaimed  Edith  ;  "  and  I  have  heard  it  said  of 
thee,  that  as  thou  art  now,  thou  wert  from  thine  earliest 
years  ;  ^  ever  the  sweet,  the  calm,  the  holy,  —  ever  less 
on  earth  than  in  heaven." 

Something  there  was  in  the  queen's  eyes,  as  she  raised 
them  towards  Edith  atthisimrst  of  enthusiasm,  that  gave  for 
a  moment,  to  a  face  otherwise  so  dissimilar,  the  likeness  to 
her  father  ;  something,  in  that  large  pupil,  of  the  impenetra- 
ble, unrevealing  depth  of  a  nature  close  and  secret  in  self- 
control.  And  a  more  acute  observer  than  Edith  misht 
long  have  been  perplexed  and  haunted  with  that  look, 
Avondering  if,  indeeil,  under  the  divine  and  spiritual  com- 
posure, lurked  the  mystery  of  human  passion. 

"  My  child,"  said  the  queen,  with  the  faintest  smile 
upon  her  lips,  and  drawing  Edith  towards  her,  "there  are 
moments  when  all  that  breathe  the  breath  of  life  feel,  or 

1  AiLRED:  "De  Yit.  Edward  Confess." 


HAROLD.  173 

have  felt,  alike.  lu  my  vain  youth  I  read,  I  mused,  I 
pondered,  but  over  worldly  lore  ;  and  what  men  called 
the  sanctity  of  virtue,  was  perhaps  but  the  silence  of 
thought.  Now  I  have  put  aside  those  early  and  childish 
dreams  and  shadows,  remembering  them  not,  save "  — 
here  the  smile  grew  more  pronounced  —  "  to  puzzle  some 
poor  schoolboy  with  the  knots  and  riddles  of  the  sharp 
grammarian  :  ^  but  not  to  speak  of  myself  have  I  sent  for 
thee.  Edith,  again  and  again,  solemnly  and  sincerely,  I 
pray  thee  to  obey  the  wish  of  my  lord  the  king.  And 
now,  while  yet  in  all  the  bloom  of  thought,  as  of  youth, 
•while  thou  hast  no  memory  save  the  child's,  enter  on  the 
Realm  of  Peace." 

"  I  cannot,  I  dare  not,  I  cannot,  —  ah,  ask  me  not," 
said  poor  Edith,  covering  her  face  with  her  hands. 

Those  hands  the  queen  gently  withdrew  ;  and  looking 
steadfastly  in  the  changeful  and  half-averted  face,  she 
said  mournfully,  "  Is  it  so,  my  godchild  ?  and  is  thy  heart 
set  on  the  hopes  of  earth  —  thy  dreams  on  the  love  of 
man  ? " 

"I^ay,"  answered  Edith,  equivocating;  "but  I  have 
promised  not  to  take  the  veil." 

"  Promised  to  Hilda  1 " 

"  Hilda,"  exclaimed  Edith,  readily,  "  would  never  con- 
sent to  it.  Thou  knowest  her  strong  nature,  her  distaste 
to  —  to  —  " 

"  The  laws  of  our  holy  Church  —  I  do  ;  and  for  that 
reason  it  is,  mainly,  that  I  join  with  the  king  in  seeking 
to  abstract  thee  from  her  influence  :  but  it  is  not  Hilda 
that  thou  hast  promised  ?  " 

Edith  hung  her  head. 

"  Is  it  to  woman  or  to  man  1 " 

Before  Edith  could  answer,  the  door  from  the  ante- 

1  lugulfus. 


174  HAROLD. 

room  opened  gently,  but  without  the  usual  ceremony,  and 
Harold  entered.  His  quick,  quiet  eye  embraced  both 
forms,  and  curbed  Edith's  young  impulse,  which  made 
her  start  from  her  seat,  and  advance  joyously  towards  him 
as  a  protector. 

"Fair  day  to  thee,  my  sister,"  said  the  earl,  advancing; 
"  and  pardon,  if  I  break  thus  rudely  on  thy  leisure  ;  for 
few  are  the  moments  when  beggar  and  Benedictine  leave 
thee  free  to  receive  thy  brother." 

"  Dost  thou  reproach  me,  Harold  1 " 

"  No,  Heaven  forefend  !  "  replied  the  earl,  cordially,  and 
with  a  look  at  once  of  pity  and  admiration  ;  "  for  thou 
art  one  of  the  few,  in  this  court  of  simulators,  sincere 
and  true  ;  and  it  pleases  thee  to  serve  the  Divine  Power 
in  thy  way,  as  it  pleases  me  to  serve  Him  in  mine." 

"  Thine,  Harold  ? "  said  the  queen,  shaking  her  head, 
but  with  a  look  of  some  human  pride  and  fondness  in  hex 
fair  face. 

"  Mine  :  as  I  learned  it  from  thee  when  I  was  thy 
pupil,  Edith ;  when  to  those  studies  in  which  thou  didst 
precede  me,  thou  first  didst  lure  me  from  sport  and  pas- 
time ;  and  from  thee  I  learned  to  glow  over  the  deeds  of 
Greek  and  Koman,  and  say,  '  They  lived  and  died  as 
men  ;  like  them  may  I  live  and  die  ! ' " 

"  Oh,  true,  —  too  true  !  "  said  the  queen,  with  a  sigh  ; 
"  and  I  am  to  blame  grievously  that  I  did  so  pervert  to 
earth  a  mind  that  might  otherwise  have  learned  holier 
examples  ;  —  nay,  smile  not  with  that  haughty  lip,  my 
brother,  for,  believe  me,  —  yea,  believe  me,  —  there  is 
more  true  valor  in  the  life  of  one  patient  martyr  than  in 
the  victories  of  Caesar,  or  even  the  defeat  of  Brutus." 

"  It  may  be  so,"  replied  the  earl,  "  but  out  of  the  same 
oak  we  carve  the  spe;ir  and  the  cross ;  and  those  not 
worthy  to  hold  the  one,  may  yet  not  guiltily  wield  the 


HAEOLD.  175 

otlier.  Each  to  liis  path  of  life,  —  and  mme  is  chosen." 
Then,  changing  his  voice,  with  some  abruptness,  he  said  : 
"  But  what  hast  thou  been  saying  to  thy  fair  godchild, 
that  her  cheek  is  pale,  and  her  eyelids  seem  so  heavy  1 
Edith,  Edith,  my  sister,  beware  how  thou  shapest  the  lot 
of  the  martyr  without  the  peace  of  the  saint.  Had  Algive 
the  nun  been  wedded  to  Sweyn  our  brother,  Sweyn  were 
not  wending,  barefooted  and  forlorn,  to  lay  the  wrecks  of 
desolated  life  at  the  Holy  Tomb." 

"  Harokl,  Harold  !  "  faltered  the  queen,  much  struck 
with  his  words, 

"  But,"  the  earl  continued,  —  and  something  of  the 
pathos  which  belongs  to  deep  emotion  vibrated  in  the 
eloquent  voice,  accustomed  to  command  and  persuade,  — 
"  we  strip  not  the  green  leaves  for  our  yulediearths  :  we 
gather  them  up  when  dry  and  sere.  Leave  youth  on  the 
bough  ;  let  the  bird  sing  to  it ;  let  it  play  free  in  the  airs 
of  heaven.  Smoke  comes  from  the  branch  which,  cut  in 
the  sap,  is  cast  upon  the  lire,  and  regret  from  the  heart 
which  is  severed  from  the  world  while  the  world  is  in  its 
May." 

The  queen  paced  slowly,  but  in  evident  agitation,  to 
and  fro  the  room,  and  her  hands  clasped  convulsively  the 
rosary  round  her  neck  ;  then,  after  a  pause  of  thought,  slie 
motioned  to  Edith,  and,  pointing  to  the  oratory,  said,  ■with 
forced  composure,  "  Enter  there,  and  there  kneel  ;  com- 
mune with  thyself,  and  be  still.  Ask  for  a  sign  from 
a  I  love,  —  pray  for  the  grace  within.  Go  ;  I  would  speak 
alone  with  Harold." 

Edith  crossed  her  arms  on  her  bosom  meekly,  and 
passed  into  the  oratory.  The  queen  w^atched  her  for  a 
few  moments,  tenderly,  as  the  slight,  childlike  form  bent 
before  the  sacred  symbol.  Then  she  closed  the  door 
gently,  and,  coming  with  a  quick  step  to  Harold,  said,  in 
a  low  but  clear  voice,  "  Dost  thou  love  the  maiden  1 " 


176  HAROLD. 

*'  Sister,"  answered  the  earl,  sadly,  "  I  love  her  as  a 
man  should  love  woman,  —  more  tlian  my  life,  hut  less 
than  the  ends  life  lives  for." 

"  Oh,  world,  world,  world  !  "  cried  the  queen,  passion- 
ately, "  not  even  to  thine  own  ohjects  art  thou  true.  O 
world  !  0  world !  thou  desirest  happiness  below,  and  at 
every  turn,  with  every  vanity,  thou  tramplest  happiness 
under  foot  !  Yes,  yes ;  they  said  to  me,  '  For  the  sake 
of  our  greatness,  thou  shalt  wed  King  Edward.'  And  I 
live  in  the  eyes  that  loathe  me  —  and  —  and  —  "  The 
queen,  as  if  conscience-stricken,  paused  aghast,  kissed 
devoutly  the  relic  suspended  to  her  rosary,  and  continued, 
with  such  calmness  that  it  seemed  as  if  two  women  were 
Went  in  one,  so  startling  was  the  contrast.  "  And  I  have 
had  my  reward,  but  not  from  tlie  world  !  Even  so,  Harold 
the  Earl,  and  earl's  son,  thou  lovest  yon  fair  child,  and 
she  thee  ;  and  ye  might  be  happy,  if  happiness  were 
earth's  end  ;  but,  though  high-born,  and  of  fair  temporal 
possessions,  she  brings  thee  not  lands  broad  enough  for 
her  dowry,  nor  troops  of  kindred  to  swell  thy  lithsmen, 
and  she  is  not  a  mark-stone  in  thy  march  to  ambition  : 
and  so  thou  lovest  her  as  man  loves  woman,  — '  less  than 
the  ends  life  lives  for  ! '  " 

"  Sister,"  said  Harold,  "  thou  speakest  as  I  love  to  hear 
thee  speak,  —  as  my  bright-eyed,  rose-lipped  sister  spoke 
in  the  days  of  old  ;  thou  speakest  as  a  woman  with  warm 
heart,  and  not  as  the  mummy  in  the  stiff  cerements  of 
priestly  form  ;  and  if  thou  art  with  me,  and  thou  wilt 
give  me  countenance,  I  will  marry  thy  godchild,  and  save 
her  alike  from  the  dire  superstitions  of  Hilda,  and  the 
grave  of  the  abhorrent  convent." 

"  But   my    father  —  my    fatlier  !  "    cried    the    queen  ; 
"  who  ever  bended  that  soul  of  steel  ?  " 

"It  is  not  my  father  I  fear  ;  it  is  thee  and  thy  monks. 


HAROLD.  177 

Forgettest  thou  that  Edith  and  I  are  within  the  six 
banned  degrees  of  the  Church  1 " 

"  True,  most  true,"  said  the  queen,  with  a  look  of  great 
terror  ;  "  I  had  forgotten.  Avaunt,  the  very  thought ! 
Pra}^  fast,  banish  it,  —  my  poor,  poor  brother  !  "  and  she 
kissed  his  brow. 

"  So,  there  fades  the  Avoman,  and  the  mummy  speaks 
again  I  "  said  Harold,  bitterly.  "  Be  it  so  ;  I  bow  to  my 
doom.  Well,  there  may  be  a  time,  when  Jfature,  on  the 
throne  of  England,  shall  prevail  over  Priest-craft ;  and, 
in  guerdon  for  all  my  services,  I  will  then  ask  a  king  who 
hath  blood  in  his  veins  to  win  me  the  Pope's  pardon  and 
benison.  Leave  me  that  hope,  my  sister,  and  leave  thy 
godchild  on  the  shores  of  the  living  world." 

The  queen  made  no  answer ;  and  Harold,  auguring  ill 
from  her  silence,  moved  on  and  opened  the  door  of  the 
oratory.  But  the  image  that  there  met  him  —  that  figure 
still  kneeling,  those  eyes,  so  earnest  in  the  tears  that 
streamed  from  them  fast  and  unheeded,  fixed  on  the  holy 
rood  —  awed  his  step  and  checked  his  voice.  Nor  till 
the  girl  had  risen,  did  he  break  silence ;  then  he  said 
gently,  "  My  sister  will  press  thee  no  more,  Edith  —  " 

"  I  say  not  that !  "  exclaimed  the  queen. 

"  Or  if  she  doth,  remember  thy  plighted  promise  under 
the  wide  cope  of  blue  heaven,  the  old  nor  least  holy  tem- 
ple of  our  common  Father  !  " 

With  these  words  he  left  the  room. 


VOL.  I. — 12 


178  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Harold  passed  into  the  queen's  antechamber.  Here  the 
attendance  was  small  and  select  compared  with  the  crowds 
which  we  shall  see  presently  in  the  anteroom  to  the  king's 
closet :  for  here  came  chiefly  the  more  learned  ecclesias- 
tics, attracted  instinctively  by  the  queen's  own  mental 
cidture,  and  few  indeed  were  they  at  that  day  (perhaps 
the  most  illiterate  known  in  England  since  the  death  of 
Alfred  ^)  ;  and  here  came  not  the  tribe  of  impostors,  and 
the  relic-venders,  whom  the  infantine  simplicity  and 
lavish  waste  of  the  Confessor  attracted.  8ome  four  or 
five  priests  and  monks,  some  lonely  widow,  some  orphan 
child,  hundile  worth,  or  unprotected  sorrow,  made  the 
noiseless  levee  of  the  sweet  sad  queen. 

The  groups  turned,  with  patient  eyes,  towards  the  earl 
as  he  emerged  from  that  chamber,  which  it  was  rare 
indeed  to  quit  unconsoled,  and  marvelled  at  the  flush  in 
his  cheek,  and  the  disquiet  on  his  brow  ;  but  Harold  was 
dear  to  the  clients  of  his  sister ;  for,  despite  his  supposed 
indifi'erence  to  the  mere  priestly  virtues  (if  virtues  we  call 
them)  of  the  decrepit  time,  his  intellect  was  respected  by 
yon  learned  ecclesiastics  ;  and  his  character  as  the  foe  of 

1  The  clergy  (says  Malmesbury),  contented  with  a  very  slight 
share  of  learning,  conld  scarcely  stammer  out  the  words  of  the 
sacraments ;  and  a  person  who  understood  grammar  was  an  object 
oi  wonder  and  astonishment.  Other  authorities  likely  to  be  impar- 
tial speak  quite  as  strongly  as  to  the  prevalent  ignorance  of  the 
time. 


HAROLD.  179 

all  injustice,  and  the  fosterer  of  all  that  were  desolate, 
was  known  to  yon  pale-eyed  widow,  and  yon  trembling 
orphan. 

In  the  atmosphere  of  that  quiet  assembly,  the  earl 
seemed  to  recover  his  kindly  temperament,  and  he  paused 
to  address  a  friendly  or  a  soothing  word  to  each ;  so  that 
when  he  vanished,  the  hearts  there  felt  more  light ;  and 
the  silence,  hushed  before  his  entrance,  was  broken  by 
many  whispers  in  praise  of  the  good  earl. 

Descending  the  staircase  without  the  walls  —  as  even  in 
royal  halls  the  principal  staircases  were  then  —  Harold 
gained  a  wide  court,  in  which  loitered  several  house- 
carles  ^  and  attendants,  whether  of  the  king  or  the 
visitors ;  and,  reaching  the  entrance  of  the  palace,  took 
his  way  towards  the  king's  rooms,  which  lay  near,  and 
round,  what  is  now  called  "  The  Painted  Chamber,"  then 
used  as  a  bedroom  by  Edward  on  state  occasions. 

And    now  he    entered    the  antechamber    of    his  royal 

brother-in-law.     Crowded    it  was,  but    rather  seemed    it 

the    hall    of  a  convent    than    the    anteroom    of   a  king. 

Monks,  pilgrims,  priests,  met  his  eye  in  every  nook ;  and 

not  there  did  the  earl  pause  to  practise  the  arts  of  popular 

favor.     Passing   erect   through  the  midst,  he    beckoned 

forth  the  officer,  in  attendance  at  the  extreme  end,  who, 

after  an  interchange  of  whispers,  ushered  him  into  the 

royal    presence.       The    monks    and    the    priests,    gazing 

towards  the  door  which  had  closed  on  his  stately  form, 

said  to  each  other,  "  The  king's  Norman  favorites  at  least 

honored  the  Church." 

1  House-carles  in  the  royal  court  were  the  body-guard,  mostly, 
if  not  all,  of  Danish  origin.  They  appear  to  have  been  first  formed, 
or  at  least  employed,  in  that  capacity  by  Canute.  With  the  great 
earls,  the  house-carles  probably  exercised  the  same  functions,  but 
in  the  ordinary  acceptation  of  the  word  in  families  of  lower  rank, 
house-carle  was  a  domestic  servant. 


180  HAROLD. 

"  That  is  true,"  said  an  abbot ;  "  and  an  it  were  not  for 
two  things,  I  should  love  the  Norman  better  than  the 
Saxon." 

*'  What  are  they,  my  father  ?  "  asked  an  aspiring  young 
monk. 

"  Inprinis"  quoth  the  abbot,  proud  of  the  one  Latin 
word  he  thought  he  knew,  but  that,  as  we  see,  Avas  an 
error  ;  "  they  cannot  speak  so  as  to  be  understood,  and 
I  fear  me  much  they  incline  to  mere  carnal  learning." 

Here  there  was  a  sanctified  groan. 

"  Count  William  himself  spoke  to  me  in  Latin  !  "  con- 
tinued the  abbot,  raising  his  eyebrows. 

"  Did  he  1  —  Wonderful  !  "  exclaimed  several  voices. 
*'  And  what  did  you  answer,  holy  father  1 " 

"  Marry,"  said  the  abbot,  solemnly,  "  I  replied,  '  In- 
prints.^  " 

"  Good !  "  said  the  young  monk,  with  a  look  of  pro- 
found admiration. 

"  Whereat  the  good  Count  looked  puzzled, —  as  I  meant 
him  to  be  :  a  heinous  fault,  and  one  intolerant  to  the 
clergy,  that  love  of  profane  tongues  !  And  the  next  thing 
against  your  Norman  is,"  added  the  abbot,  with  a  sly  wink, 
"that  he  is  a  close  man,  who  loves  not  his  stoup  :  now, 
I  say  that  a  priest  never  has  more  hold  over  a  sinner 
than  when  he  makes  the  sinner  open  his  heart  to  him." 

"  That 's  clear  !  "  said  a  fat  priest,  with  a  lubricate  and 
shining  nose. 

"  And  how,"  pursued  the  abbot,  triumphantly,  "  can  a 
sinner  open  his  heavy  heart  until  you  have  given  him 
something  to  lighten  it  ?  Oh,  many  and  many  a  wretched 
man  have  I  comforted  spiritually  over  a  flagon  of  stout 
ale  !  and  many  a  good  legacy  to  the  Church  hath  come 
out  of  a  friendly  wassail  between  watchful  shepherd  and 
strayed  sheep  !     But  what  hast  thou  there  ? "  resumed  the 


HAROLD.  181 

abbot,  turning  to  a  man,  clad  in  the  lay  garb  of  a  burgess 
of  London,  who  had  just  entered  the  room,  followed  by 
a  youtli  bearing  wliat  seemed  a  coffer,  covered  with  a  fine 
linen  cloth. 

"  Holy  father  !  "  said  the  burgess,  wiping  his  forehead, 
"  it  is  a  treasure  so  great,  that  I  trow  Hugoline,  the  king's 
treasurer,  will  scowl  at  me  for  a  year  to  come,  for  he  likes 
to  keep  his  own  grip  on  the  king's  gold  !  " 

At  this  indiscreet  observation,  the  abbot,  the  monks, 
and  all  the  priestly  bystanders  looked  grim  and  gloomy, 
for  each  had  his  own  special  design  upon  the  peace  of 
poor  Hugoline,  the  treasurer,  and  liked  not  to  see  him  the 
prey  of  a  layman. 

"  Inprinis ! "  quoth  the  abbot,  puffing  out  the  word 
with  great  scorn  ;  "  thinkest  thou,  son  of  Mammon,  that 
our  good  king  sets  his  pious  heart  on  gew-gaws,  and  gems, 
and  such  vanities  ?  Tliou  shouldst  take  the  goods  to 
Count  Baldwin  of  Flanders  ;  or  Tostig,  the  proud  earl's 
proud  son." 

"  Marry  ! "  said  the  cheapman,  with  a  smile ;  "  my 
treasure  Avill  find  small  price  with  Baldwin  the  scoffer, 
and  Tostig  the  vain !  Nor  need  ye  look  at  me  so  sternly, 
my  fathers ;  but  rather  vie  with  each  other  who  shall 
win  this  wonder  of  wonders  for  his  own  convent ;  know, 
in  a  word,  that  it  is  the  right  thumb  of  St  Jude,  which  a 
worthy  man  bought  at  Rome  for  me,  for  3000  lb.  weight 
of  silver ;  and  I  ask  but  500  lb.  over  the  purchase  for  my 
pains  and  my  fee. "  ^ 

"  Humph  !  "  said  the  abbot. 

"Humph!"  said  the  aspiring  young  monk:  the  rest 
gathered  wistfully  round  the  linen  cloth. 

1  This  was  cheap,  for  Agehioth,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  gave 
the  Pope  6000  lb.  weight  of  silver  for  the  arm  of  St.  Augustiue.  — 
Malmeseury. 


182  HAROLD. 

A  fiery  exclamation  of  wrath  and  disdain  was  here 
heard  :  and  all  turning,  saw  a  tall,  fierce-looking  thegn, 
who  had  found  his  way  into  that  group,  like  a  hawk  in  a 
rookery. 

"  Dost  thou  tell  me,  knave,"  quoth  the  thegn,  in  a  dia- 
lect that  bespoke  him  a  Dane  by  origin,  with  the  broad 
burr  still  retained  in  the  north,  —  "  dost  thou  tell  me 
that  the  king  will  waste  his  gold  on  such  fooleries,  while 
the  fort  built  by  Canute  at  the  flood  of  the  Humber  is  all 
fallen  into  ruin,  without  a  man  in  steel  jacket  to  keep 
watch  on  the  war  fleets  of  Swede  and  iSTorwegian  ?" 

"  Worshipful  minister,"  replied  the  cheapman,  with 
some  slight  irony  in  his  tone  ;  "  these  reverend  fathers 
will  tell  thee  that  the  thumb  of  St.  Jude  is  far  better  aid 
against  Swede  and  Norwegian  than  forts  of  stone  and 
jackets  of  steel :  nathless,  if  thou  wantest  jackets  of  steel, 
I  have  some  to  sell  at  a  fair  price,  of  the  last  fashion,  and 
helms  with  long  nose-pieces,  as  are  worn  by  the  N^ormans." 

"  The  thumb  of  a  withered  old  saint,"  cried  the  Dane, 
not  heeding  the  last  words,  "  more  defence  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Humber  than  crenellated  castles,  and  mailed 
men  ! " 

"  Surely,  naught  son,"  said  the  abbot,  looking  shocked, 
and  taking  part  with  the  cheapman.  "  Dost  thou  not 
remember  that,  in  the  pious  and  famous  council  of  1014, 
it  was  decreed  to  put  aside  all  weapons  of  flesh  against 
thy  heathen  countrymen,  and  depend  alone  on  St.  Michael 
to  fight  for  us  ?  Thinkest  thou  that  the  saint  would  ever 
suffer  his  holy  thumb  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Gen- 
tiles 1  —  never  !  Go  to  ;  thou  art  not  fit  to  have  conduct 
of  the  king's  wars.  Go  to,  and  repent,  my  son,  or  the 
king  shall  hear  of  it." 

"Ah,  wolf  in  sheep's- clothing  !  "  muttered  the  Dane, 
turning  on  his  heel ;  "if  thy  monastery  were  but  built 
on  the  other  side  of  the  Humber ! " 


HAROLD.  18 


o 


The  cheapman  heard  him  and  smiled.  While  such  the 
scene  in  the  anteroom,  we  follow  Harold  into  the  king's 
presence. 

On  entering,  he  found  there  a  man  in  the  prime  of  life, 
and,  though  richly  clad,  in  embroidered  gonna,  and  with 
o-ilt  ate'diar  at  his  side,  still  with  the  loose  robe,  the  long 

DO  ' 

mustache,  and  the  skin  of  the  throat  and  right  hand 
punctured  with  characters  and  devices,  which  proved  his 
adherence  to  the  fashions  of  the  Saxon.^  And  Harold's 
eye  sparkled,  for  in  this  guest  he  recognized  the  father  of 
Aldyth,  Earl  Algar,  son  of  Leofric.  The  two  nobles 
exchanged  grave  salutations,  and  each  eyed  the  other 
wistfully. 

The  contrast  between  the  two  was  striking.  The 
Danish  race  were  men  generally  of  larger  frame  and 
grander  mould  than  the  Saxon  ;  ^  and  though  in  all  else, 
as  to  exterior,  Harold  was  eminently  Saxon,  yet,  in  com- 
mon with  his  brothers,  he  took  from  the  mother's  side 
the  lofty  air  and  iron  frame  of  the  old  kings  of  the  sea. 
But  Algar,  below  the  middle  height,  though  well  set,  was 
slight  in  comparison  with  Harold.  His  strength  was  that 
which  men  often  take  rather  from  the  nerve  than  the 
muscle  ;  a  strength  that  belongs  to  quick  tempers  and 
restless  energies.  His  light  blue  eye,  singularly  vivid  and 
glittering ;  his  quivering  lip ;  the  veins  swelling  at  each 

1  William  of  Malmesbiiry  says  that  the  English,  at  the  time  of 
the  Conquest,  loaded  their  arms  with  gold  bracelets,  and  adorned 
their  skins  with  punctured  designs,  that  is,  a  sort  of  tattooing.  He 
says  that  they  then  wore  short  garments,  reaching  to  the  mid  knee ; 
but  that  was  a  Norman  fashion,  and  the  loose  robes  assigned  in  the 
text  to  Algar  were  the  old  Saxon  fashion,  which  made  but  little 
distinction  between  the  dress  of  women  and  that  of  men. 

2  And  in  England,  to  this  day,  the  descendants  of  the  Anglo- 
Danes,  in  Cumberland  and  Yorkshire,  are  still  a  taller  and  bonier 
race  than  those  of  the  Anglo-Saxons,  as  in  Surrey  and  Sussex. 


184  HAROLD. 

emotion,  on  the  fair  white  temples  ;  the  long,  yellow  hair, 
bright  as  gold,  and  resisting  in  its  easy  curls  all  attempts 
to  curb  it  into  the  smooth  flow  most  in  faslii(jn  ;  the  ner- 
vous movements  of  the  gesture  ;  the  somewhat  sharp  and 
liasty  tones  of  the  voice  :  all  opposed,  as  much  as  if  the 
two  men  were  of  different  races,  the  steady,  deep  eye  of 
Harold,  his  composed  mien,  sweet  and  majestic,  his  deco- 
rous locks  parted  on  the  kinglike  front,  with  their  large, 
single  curl,  where  they  touched  the  shoulder.  Intelli- 
gence and  will  were  apparent  in  both  the  men  ;  but  the 
intelligence  of  one  was  acute  and  rapid,  that  of  the  other 
profound  and  steadfast ;  the  will  of  one  broke  in  flashes 
of  lightning,  that  of  the  other  was  calm  as  the  summer 
sun  at  noon. 

"  Thou  art  welcome,  Harold,"  said  the  king  with  less 
than  his  usual  listlessness,  and  with  a  look  of  relief,  as 
the  earl  approached  him. 

"  Our  good  Algar  comes  to  us  with  a  suit  well  worthy 
consideration,  though  pressed  somewhat  hotly,  and  evinc- 
ing too  great  a  desire  for  goods  worldly  ;  contrasting  in 
this  his  most  laudable  father,  our  well-beloved  Leofric, 
Avho  spends  his  substance  in  endowing  monasteries,  and 
dispensing  alms  ;  wherefore  he  shall  receive  a  hundred- 
fold in  the  treasure-house  above." 

"  A  good  interest,  doubtless,  my  lord  the  king,"  said 
Algar,  quickly,  "  but  one  that  is  not  paid  to  his  heirs ; 
and  the  more  need,  if  my  father  (whom  I  blame  not  for 
doing  as  he  lists  with  his  own)  gives  all  he  hath  to  the 
monks,  —  tlie  more  need,  I  say,  to  take  care  that  his  son 
shall  be  enabled  to  follow  his  example.  As  it  is,  most 
noble  king,  I  fear  me  that  Algar,  son  of  Leofric,  will 
have  nothing  to  give.  In  brief,  Earl  Harold,"  continued 
Algar,  turning  to  his  fellow-thegn,  — "  in  brief,  thus 
stands  the  matter.     When  our  lord    the    king  was  first 


HAKOLD,  185 

graciously  pleased  to  consent  to  rule  in  England,  the  two 
chiefs  who  most  assured  his  throne  were  thy  father  and 
mine  :  often  foes,  they  laid  aside  feud  and  jealousy  for 
the  sake  of  the  Saxon  line.  Now,  since  then,  thy  fatlier 
hath  strung  earldom  to  earldom,  like  links  in  a  coat-mail. 
And,  save  North umbria  and  Mercia,  wellnigh  all  England 
falls  to  him  and  his  sons  ;  whereas  my  father  remains 
Avhat  he  was,  and  my  father's  son  stands  landless  and 
penceless.  In  thine  absence  the  king  was  graciously 
pleased  to  bestow  on  me  thy  father's  earldom ;  men  say 
that  I  ruled  it  well.  Thy  father  returns,  and  though  "  — 
here  Algar's  eyes  shot  fire,  and  his  hand  involuntarily 
rested  on  his  ateghar  —  "I  could  have  held  it,  methinks, 
by  the  strong  hand,  I  gave  it  up  at  my  father's  prayer, 
and  the  king's  best,  with  a  free  heart.  Now,  therefore, 
I  come  to  my  lord,  and  I  ask,  '  What  lands  and  what 
lordships  canst  thou  spare  in  broad  England  to  Algar, 
once  Earl  of  Wessex,  and  son  to  the  Leofric  whose  hand 
smoothed  the  way  to  thy  throne  1 '  IMy  lord  the  king  is 
pleased  to  preach  to  me  contempt  of  the  world  ;  thou 
dost  not  despise  the  world,  Earl  of  the  East  Angles,  — 
what  sayest  thou  to  the  heir  of  Leofric  1 " 

"That  thy  suit  is  just,"  answered  Harold,  calmly, 
"  but  urged  with  small  reverence." 

Earl  Algar  bounded  like  a  stag  that  the  arrow  hath 
startled. 

"  It  becomes  thee,  who  hast  backed  thy  suits  with 
war-ships  and  mail,  to  talk  of  reverence,  and  rebuke  one 
whose  fathers  reigned  over  earldoms,^  when  thine  were, 

1  Ver}'  few  of  the  greater  Saxon  nobles  could  pretend  to  a  length- 
ened succession  in  their  demesnes  The  wars  with  the  Danes,  the 
many  revolutions  which  threw  new  families  uppermost,  the  confisca- 
tions and  banishments,  and  the  invariable  rule  of  rejecting  the  heir, 
if  not  of  mature  years  at  his  father's  death,  caused  rapid  changes  of 
dynasty  in  the  several  earldoms ;  but  the  family  of  Leofric  had  just 


186  HAROLD. 

no  doubt,  ceorls  at  the  plough.  But  for  Edric's  Streone, 
the  traitor  and  low-born,  what  had  been  Wolnoth,  thy 
grandsire  1 " 

So  rude  and  home  an  assault  in  tlie  presence  of  the 
king,  who,  though  personally  he  loved  Harold  in  Iiis 
lukewarm  way,  yet,  like  all  weak  men,  was  not  displeased 
to  see  the  strong  split  their  strength  against  each  other, 
brought  the  blood  into  Harold's  cheek  ;  but  he  answered 
calmly,  — 

"  We  live  in  a  land,  son  of  Leofric,  in  which  birth, 
though  not  disesteemed,  gives  of  itself  no  power  in  coun- 
cil or  camp.  We  belong  to  a  land  where  men  are  valued 
for  what  they  are,  not  for  what  their  dead  ancestors  might 
have  been.  So  has  it  been  for  ages  in  Saxon  England, 
where  my  fathers,  through  Godwin,  as  thou  sayest,  might 
have  been  ceorls  ;  and  so,  I  have  heard,  it  is  in  the  land 
of  the  martial  Danes,  where  my  fathers,  through  Githa, 
reigned  on  the  thrones  of  the  North." 

"  Thou  dost  well,"  said  Algar,  gnawing  his  lip,  "  to 
shelter  thyself  on  the  spindle  side,  but  we  Saxons  of 
pure  descent  think  little  of  your  kings  of  the  North, 
pirates  and  idolaters,  and  eaters  of  horse-flesh  ;  but  enjoy 
•what  thou  hast,  and  let  Algar  have  his  due," 

"  It  is  for  the  king,  not  his  servant,  to  answer  the 
prayer  of  Algar,"  said  Harold,  withdrawing  to  the  farther 
end  of  the  room. 

Algar's  eye  followed  him,  and,  observing  that  the  king 
"was  fast  sinking  into  one  of  the  fits  of  religious  reverie  in 
which  he  sought  to  be  inspired  with  a  decision  whenever 

claims  to  a  very  rare  antiquity  in  their  Mercian  lordship.  Leofric 
was  the  sixth  earl  of  Chester  and  Coventry,  in  lineal  descent  from 
his  namesake  Leofric  I. ;  he  extended  the  supremacy  of  his  hered- 
itary lordship  over  all  Mercia.  See  Dugdalk  :  "  Mouast.,"  vol.  iii. 
]>.  102;  and  Palgrave's  "Commonwealth,  Proofs,  and  Illustra- 
tioDS,"  p.  29L 


HAROLD.  187 

his  mind  was  perplexed,  he  moved  with  a  light  step  to 
Harold,  put  his  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  whispered,  — 

"  We  do  ill  to  quarrel  with  each  other  ;  I  repent  me 
of  hot  words  :  —  enough.  Thy  father  is  a  wise  man,  and 
sees  far,  —  thy  father  would  have  us  friends.  Be  it  so. 
Hearken  :  my  daughter  Aldyth  is  esteemed  not  the  least 
fair  of  the  maidens  in  England  ;  I  will  give  her  to  thee 
as  thy  wife,  and  as  thy  morgen  gift  thou  shalt  win  for 
me  from  the  king  the  earldom  forfeited  by  thy  brother 
Sweyn,  now  parcelled  out  among  sub-earls  and  thegns,  — 
easy  enow  to  control.  By  the  shrine  of  St.  Alban,  dost 
thou  hesitate,  man  ? " 

"  iS^o,  not  an  instant,"  said  Harold,  stung  to  the  quick. 
"  Not,  couldst  thou  offer  me  all  Mercia  as  her  dower, 
would  I  wed  the  daughter  of  Algar ;  and  bend  my  knee 
as  a  son  to  a  wife's  father,  to  the  man  who  despises  my 
lineage,  while  he  truckles  to  my  power." 

Algar's  face  grew  convulsed  with  rage  ;  but  without 
saying  a  word  to  the  earl  he  strode  back  to  Edward,  who 
now  with  vacant  eyes  looked  up  from  the  rosary  over 
which  he  had  been  bending,  and  said  abruptly,  — 

"My  lord  the  king,  I  have  spoken  as  I  think  it 
becomes  a  man  who  knows  his  own  claims,  and  believes 
in  the  gratitude  of  princes.  Three  days  will  I  tarry  in 
London  for  your  gracious  answer  ;  on  the  fourth  I  depart. 
May  the  saints  guard  your  throne,  and  bring  around  it  its 
best  defence,  the  thegn-born  satraps  whose  fathers  fought 
with  Alfred  and  Athelstan.  All  went  well  with  merrie 
England  till  the  hoof  of  the  Dane  king  broke  the  soil,  and 
mushrooms  sprang  up  where  the  oak-trees  fell." 

When  the  son  of  Leofric  had  left  the  chamber,  the 
king  rose  wearily,  and  said,  in  Norman-French,  to  which 
language  he  always  yearningly  returned,  when  with  those 
who  could  speak  it,  — 


188  HAROLD. 

"  Beau  frere  and  hien  aime,  in  what  trifles  must  a  king 
pass  his  life  !  And,  all  this  while,  matters  grave  and 
urgent  demand  me.  Know  that  Eadmer,  the  cheapman, 
waits  without,  and  hath  brought  me,  dear  and  good  man, 
the  thumb  of  St.  Jude  !  What  thought  of  delight !  And 
this  unmannerly  son  of  strife,  with  his  jay's  voice  and 
wolf's  eyes,  screaming  at  me  for  earldoms  !  —  oh,  the  folly 
of  man  !     Naught,  nauglit,  very  naught  !  " 

"  Sir  and  king,"  said  Harold,  "  it  ill  becomes  me  to 
arraign  your  pious  desires,  but  these  relics  are  of  vast 
cost ;  our  coasts  are  ill  defended,  and  the  Dane  yet  lays 
claim  to  your  kingdom.  Three  thousand  pounds  of  silver 
and  more  does  it  need  to  repair  even  the  old  wall  of  Lon- 
don and  Southweorc." 

"  Three  thousand  pounds  !  "  cried  the  king  ;  "  thou  art 
mad,  Harold !  I  have  scarce  twice  that  sum  in  the 
treasury  ;  and  besides  the  thumb  of  St.  Jude,  I  daily 
expect  the  tooth  of  St.  Remigius,  —  the  tooth  of  St. 
Remigius  !  " 

Harold  sighed.  "  Vex  not  yourself,  my  lord  ;  I  will 
see  to  the  defences  of  London.  For,  thanks  to  your 
grace,  my  revenues  are  large,  while  my  wants  are  simple. 
I  seek  you  now  to  pray  your  leave  to  visit  my  earldom. 
My  lithsmen  murmur  at  my  absence,  and  grievances, 
many  and  sore,  have  arisen  in  my  exile." 

The  king  stared  in  terror  ;  and  his  look  was  that  of  a 
child  when  about  to  be  left  in  the  dark. 

"  Nay,  nay  ;  I  cannot  spare  thee,  beau  frere.  Thou 
curbest  all  these  stiif  thegns,  —  thou  leavest  me  time  for 
the  devout ;  moreover  thy  father,  thy  father,  I  will  not 
be  left  to  thy  father  !     I  love  him  not !  " 

"  My  father,"  said  Harold,  mournfully,  "  returns  to  his 
own  earldom  ;  and  of  all  our  liouse  you  will  have  but  the 
mild  face  of  your  queen  by  your  side  ! " 


HAROLD.  189 

The  king's  lip  writhed  at  that  hinted  rebuke,  or  im- 
plied consolation. 

"  Edith,  the  queen,"  he  said,  after  a  slight  pause,  "  is 
pious  and  good  ;  and  she  hath  never  gainsaid  my  will,  and 
she  hath  set  before  her  as  a  model  the  chaste  Susannah, 
as  I,  unworthy  man,  from  youth  upward,  have  walked  in 
the  pure  steps  of  Joseph.^  But,"  added  the  king,  with 
a  tou(;h  of  human  feeling  in  his  voice,  "  canst  thou  not 
conceive,  Harold,  thou  who  art  a  warrior,  what  it  would 
be  to  see  ever  before  thee  the  face  of  thy  deadliest  foe  — 
the  one  against  whom  all  thy  struggles  of  life  and  death 
had  turned  into  memories  of  hyssop  and  gall  1 " 

"  My  sister  !  "  exclaimed  Harold,  in  indignant  amaze, 
—  "  my  sister  thy  deadliest  foe  !  She  who  never  once 
murmured  at  neglect,  disgrace  ;  she  whose  youth  hath 
been  consumed  in  prayers  for  thee  and  thy  realm,  —  my 
sister  !     0  king,  I  dream  !  " 

"  Thou  dreamest  not,  carnal  man,"  said  the  king,  pee- 
vishly. "  Dreams  are  the  gifts  of  the  saints,  and  are 
not  granted  to  such  as  thou  !  Dost  thou  think  that,  in 
the  prime  of  my  manhood,  I  could,  have  youth  and  beauty 
forced  on  my  sight,  and  hear  man's  law  and  man's  voice 
say,  '  The}--  are  thine,  and  thine  only,'  and  not  feel  that 
war  was  brought  to  my  hearth,  and  a  snare  set  on  my  bed, 
and  that  the  fiend  had  set  watch  on  my  soul  ?  Verily, 
I  tell  thee,  man  of  battle,  that  thou  hast  known  no  strife 
as  awful  as  mine,  and  achieved  no  victory  as  hard  and 
as  holy.  And  now,  when  my  beard  is  silver,  and  the 
Adam  of  old  is  expelled  at  the  precincts  of  death,  —  now, 
thinkest  thou  that  I  can  be  reminded  of  the  strife  and 
temptation  of  yore,  without  bitterness  and  shame  :  when, 
days  were  spent  in  fasting,  and  nights  in  fierce  prayer ; 
and  in  the  face  of  woman  I  saw  the  devices  of  Satan  1 " 

1  AiLRED  :  "  De  Vit.  Edw." 


190  HAROLD. 

Edward  colored  as  he  spoke,  aud  bis  voice  trembled 
Avith  tbe  accents  of  what  seemed  hate.  Harold  gazed  on 
him  mutely,  and  felt  that  at  last  he  had  won  tlie  secret 
that  had  ever  perplexed  him,  and  that  in  seeking  to  be 
above  the  humanity  of  love,  the  would-be  saint  had  indeed 
turned  love  into  the  hues  of  hate, —  a  thought  of  anguish 
and  a  memory  of  pain. 

The  king  recovered  himself  in  a  few  moments,  and 
said,  with  some  dignity,  "  But  God  and  his  saints  alone 
should  know  tlie  secrets  of  the  household.  What  I  have 
said  was  wrung  from  me.  Bury  it  in  thy  heart.  Leave 
me,  then,  Harold,  sith  so  it  must  be.  Put  thine  earldom 
in  order,  attend  to  the  monasteries  and  the  poor,  and 
return  soon.     As  for  Algar,  what  sayest  thou  1 " 

"I  fear. me,"  answered  the  large-souled  Harold,  with  a 
victorious  effort  of  justice  over  resentment,  "  that  if  you 
reject  his  suit  you  will  drive  him  into  some  perilous 
extremes.  Despite  his  rash  and  proud  spirit,  he  is  brave 
against  foes,  and  beloved  by  the  ceorls,  who  oft  like  best 
the  frank  and  hasty  spirit.  Wherefore  some  power  and 
lordship  it  were  wise  to  give,  without  dispossessing  others, 
and  not  more  wise  than  due,  for  his  father  served  you 
well." 

"  And  hath  endowed  more  houses  of  God  than  any  earl 
in  the  kingdom  But  Algar  is  no  Leofria  We  will  con- 
sider your  words  and  heed  them.  Bless  you,  beau  frere  / 
and  send  in  the  cheapman.  The  thumb  of  St.  Jude  ! 
What  a  gift  to  my  new  church  of  St.  Peter !  The  thumb 
of  St.  Jude  !  —  N'on  nobis  gloria  /  Sancta  Maria  !  The 
thumb  of  St.  Jude  ! " 


BOOK  V. 


DEATH     AND     LOVi. 


CHAPTER   I. 

Harold,  without  waiting  once  more  to  see  Edith,  nor 
even  taking  leave  of  his  father,  repaired  to  Dunwich,i  the 
capital  of  his  earldom.  In  his  absence,  the  king  wholly 
forgot  Algar  and  his  suit ;  and  in  the  mean  while  the  only 
lordships  at  his  disposal,  Stigand,  the  grasping  bishop,  got 
from  him  without  an  effort.  In  much  wrath.  Earl  Algar, 
on  the  fourth  day,  assembling  all  the  loose  men-at-arms 
he  could  find  around  the  metropolis,  and  at  tlie  head  of  a 
numerous  disorderly  band,  took  his  way  into  Wales,  with 
his  young  daughter  Aldyth,  to  whom  the  crown  of  a 
Welsh  king  was  perhaps  some  comfort  for  the  loss  of  the 
fair  earl,  though  the  rumor  ran  that  she  had  long  since 
lost  her  heart  to  her  father's  foe. 

Edith,  after  a  long  homily  from  the  king,  returned  to 
Hilda;  nor  did  her  godmother  renew  the  subject  of  the 
convent.  All  she  said  on  parting  was,  "  Even  in  youth 
the  silver  cord  may  be  loosened,  and  the  golden  bowl  may 
be  broken ;  and  rather  perhaps  in  youth  than  in  age, 
when  the  heart  has  grown  hard,  wilt  thou  recall  with  a 
sigh  my  counsels." 

1  Dunwich,  now  swallowed  up  by  the  sea  —  hostile  element  to 
the  house  of  Godwin! 


102  HAEOLD. 

Godwin  haJ  departed  to  Wales ;  all  his  sons  were  at 
their  several  lordships  ;  Edward  was  left  alone  to  his 
monks  and  relic-venders.     And  so  months  passed. 

N'ow,  it  was  the  custom  with  the  old  kings  of  England 
to  hold  state  and  wea  th;ir  c)cv;ns  thrice  a  year,  at 
Christmas,  at  Easter,  and  at  Whitsuntide ;  and  in  those 
times  their  nobles  ca'^'?  round  them,  and  there  was  much 
feasting  and  great  pomp. 

So,  in  the  Easter  of  the  year  of  our  Lord  1053,  King 
Edward  kept  his  court  at  AVindshore,^  and  Earl  Godwin 
and  his  sons,  and  many  others  of  high  degree,  left  their 
homes  to  do  honor  to  the  king.  And  Earl  Godwin  came 
first  to  his  house  in  London,  —  near  the  Tower  Palatine, 
in  what  is  now  called  the  Fleet,  —  and  Harold  the  Earl, 
and  Tostig,  and  Leofwine,  and  Gurth,  were  to  meet  him 
there,  and  go  thence,  with  the  full  state  of  their  sub- 
thegns,  and  cnehts,  and  house-carles,  their  falcons,  and 
their  hounds,  as  become  men  of  such  rank,  to  tlie  court 
of  King  Edward. 

Earl  Godwin  sat  with  his  wife,  Githa,  in  a  room  out  of 
the  hall,  which  looked  on  the  Thames,  awaiting  Harold, 
who  was  expected  to  arrive  ere  nightfall.  Gurth  had 
ridden  forth  to  meet  his  brother,  and  Leofwine  and 
Tostig  had  gone  over  to  South wark,  to  try  their  band-dogs 
on  the  great  bear,  which  had  been  brought  from  the  North 
a  few  days  before,  and  was  saiii  to  have  hugged  many 
good  hounds  to  death  ;  and  a  large  train  of  thegns  and 
house-carles  had  gone  with  them  to  see  the  sport ;  so  tliat 
the  old  earl  and  his  lady  the  Dane  sat  alone.  And  there 
was  a  cloud  upon  Earl  Godwin's  large  forehead,  and  he 
sat  l)y  the  fire,  spreading  his  hands  before  it,  and  looking 
thoughtful]}''  on  tlie  flame,  as  it  broke  through  the  smoke 
which  burst  out  into  the  covei\  or  hole  in  the  I'oof,     And 

1  Windsor. 


HAROLD.  19 


o 


in  that  large  house  there  were  no  less  than  three  "  covers," 
or  rooms  wherein  fires  could  be  lit  in  the  centre  of  the 
floor ;  and  the  rafters  above  were  blackened  with  tlie 
smoke ;  and  in  those  good  old  days,  ere  chimneys,  if 
existing,  were  much  in  use,  "  poses,  and  rheumatisms,  and 
catarrhs  "  were  unknown,  —  so  wholesome  and  healtliful 
was  the  smoke.  Earl  Godwin's  favorite  hound,  old,  like 
himself,  lay  at  his  feet,  dreaming,  for  it  whined  and  was 
restless.  And  the  earl's  old  hawk,  with  its  feathers  all 
stiff  and  sparse,  perched  on  the  dossel  of  the  earl's  chair  ; 
and  the  floor  was  pranked  with  rushes  and  sweet  herbs, 
—  the  first  of  *the  spring ;  and  Githa's  feet  were  on  her 
stool,  and  she  leaned  her  proud  face  on  the  small  hand 
which  proved  her  descent  from  the  Dane,  and  rocked  her- 
self to  and  fro,  and  thought  of  her  son  Wolnoth  in  the 
court  of  the  Norman. 

"  Githa,"  at  last  said  the  earl,  "thou  hast  been  to  me 
a  good  wife  and  a  true,  and  thou  hast  borne  me  tall  and 
bold  sons,  some  of  whoin  have  caused  us  sorrow,  and 
some  joy ;  and  in  sorrow  and  in  joy  we  have  but  drawn 
closer  to  each  other.  Yet  when  we  wed,  thou  wert  in 
thy  first  youth,  and  the  best  part  of  my  years  was  fled ; 
and  thou  wert  a  Dane,  and  I  a  Saxon ;  and  thou  a  king's 
niece,  and  now  a  king's  sister,  and  I  but  tracing  two 
descents  to  thegn's  rank." 

Moved  and  marvelling  at  this  touch  of  sentiment  in 
the  calm  earl,  —  in  whom,  indeed,  such  sentiment  was 
rare,  —  Githa  roused  herself  from  her  musings,  and  said 
simply  and  anxiously,  — 

"  I  fear  my  lord  is  not  well,  that  he  speaks  thus  to 
Githa !  " 

The  earl  smiled  faintly. 

"  Thou  art  right  with  thy  woman's  wit,  wife.  And  for 
the  last  few  weeks,  though  I  said  it  not  to  alarm  thee,  I 

VOL.  I.  —  13 


194  HAROLD. 

have   had   strange  noises  in  my  ears,  and  a  surge,  as  of 
blood,  to  the  temples." 

"  0  Godwin  !  dear  spouse,"  said  Githa,  tenderly,  "  and 
I  was  blind  to  the  cause,  but  wondered  why  there  was 
some  change  in  thy  manner  !  But  I  will  go  to  Hilda  to- 
morrow ;  she  hath  charms  against  all  disease." 

"  Leave  Hilda  in  peace,  to  give  her  charms  to  the 
young !  age  defies  Wigh  and  Wicca.  Now  hearken  to 
me.  I  feel  that  my  tliread  is  nigh  spent,  and,  as  Hilda 
would  say,  my  Fylgia  forewarns  me  that  we  are  about  to 
part.  Silence,  I  say,  and  hear  me.  I  have  done  proud 
things  in  my  day ;  I  have  made  kings  and  built  thrones, 
and  I  stand  higher  in  England  than  ever  thegn  or  earl 
stood  befora  I  would  not,  Githa,  that  the  tree  of  my 
house,  planted  in  the  storm,  and  watered  with  lavish 
blood,  should  wither  away." 

The  old  earl  paused,  and  Githa  said  loftily,  — 

"  Fear  not  that  thy  name  will  pass  from  the  earth,  or 
thy  race  from  power  ;  for  fame  has  been  wrought  by  thy 
hands,  and  sons  have  been  born  to  thy  embrace ;  and  the 
boughs  of  the  tree  thou  hast  planted  shall  live  in  th« 
sunlight  when  we,  its  roots,  0  my  husband,  are  buried  in 
the  earth." 

"  Githa,"  replied  the  earl,  "  thou  speakest  as  the  daugh- 
ter of  kings  and  the  mother  of  men  ;  but  listen  to  me,  for 
my  soul  is  heavy.  Of  these  our  sons,  our  first-born,  alas  ! 
is  a  wanderer  and  outcast,  —  Sweyn,  once  the  beautiful 
and  brave  ;  and  Wolnoth,  thy  darling,  is  a  guest  in  the 
court  of  the  Norman  our  foe.  Of  the  rest,  Gurth  is  so 
mild  and  so  calm  that  I  predict  without  fear  that  he  will 
be  a  warrior  of  fame,  for  the  mildest  in  hall  are  ever  the 
boldest  in  field  :  but  Gurth  hath  not  the  deep  wit  of  these 
tangled  times  ;  and  Leofwine  is  too  light,  and  Tostig  too 
fierce.    So,  wife  mine,  of  these  our  six  sons,  Harold  alone, 


HAROLD.  195 

dauntless  as  Tostig,  mild  as  Gurth,  hath  his  father's 
thoughtful  brain.  And,  if  the  king  reniams  as  aloof  as 
now  from  his  royal  kinsman,  Edward  the  Atheling,  who  " 
■ —  the  earl  hesitated  and  looked  round  — ■  "  who  so  near 
to  the  throne  when  I  am  no  more,  as  Harold,  the  joy  of 
the  ceorls,  and  the  pride  of  the  thegns  l  he,  —  whose 
tongue  never  falters  in  the  Witan,  and  whose  arm  never 
yet  hath  known  defeat  in  the  field  1 " 

Githa's  heart  swelled,  and  her  cheek  grew  flushed. 

"  But  what  I  fear  the  most,"  resumed  the  earl,  "  is,  not 
the  enemy  without,  but  the  jealousy  within.  By  the  side 
of  Harold  stands  Tostig,  rapacious  to  grasp,  but  impotent 
to  hold,  —  able  to  ruin,  strengthless  to  save." 

"  Nay,  Godwin,  my  lord,  thou  wrongest  our  handsome 
son. " 

"  Wife,  wife,"  said  the  earl,  stamping  his  foot,  "  hear 
me  and  obey  me,  for  my  words  on  earth  may  be  few  ; 
and  whilst  thou  gainsayest  me,  the  blood  mounts  to  my 
brain,  and  my  eyes  see  through  a  cloud." 

"  Forgive  me,  sweet  lord,"  said  Githa,  humbly. 

"  Mickle  and  sore  it  repents  me  that  in  their  youth  I 
spared  not  the  time  from  my  worldly  ambition  to  watch 
over  the  hearts  of  my  sons  ;  and  thou  wert  too  proud  of 
the  surface  without  to  look  well  to  the  workings  within, 
and  what  was  once  soft  to  the  touch  is  now  hard  to  the 
hammer.  In  the  battle  of  life  the  arrows  we  neglect  to 
pick  up,  Fate,  our  foe,  will  store  in  her  quiver  ;  we  have 
armed  her  ourselves  with  the  shafts,  —  the  more  need  to 
beware  with  the  shield.  Wherefore,  if  thou  survivest 
me,  and  if,  as  I  forebode,  dissension  break  out  between 
Harold  and  Tostig,  I  charge  thee  by  memory  of  our 
love,  and  reverence  for  my  grave,  to  deem  wise  and  just 
all  that  Harold  deems  just  and  wise ;  for  when  Godwin  is 
in  the  dust,  his  House  lives  alone  in  Harold.     Heed  me 


196  HAF.OLD. 

now,  and  heed  ever.  And  so,  while  the  day  yet  lasts,  I 
will  go  forth  into  the  marts  and  the  gnilds,  and  talk  with 
the  burgesses,  and  smile  on  their  wives,  and  be  to  the 
last  Godwin  the  smooth  and  the  strong." 

So  saying,  the  old  earl  arose,  and  walked  forth  Avith  a 
firm  step  ;  and  his  old  hound  sprang  up,  pricked  its  ears, 
and  followed  him  ;  the  blinded  falcon  turned  its  head 
towards  the  clapping  door,  but  did  not  stir  from  the 
dossel. 

Then  Githa  again  leaned  her  cheek  on  her  hand,  and 
again  rocked  herself  to  and  fro,  gazing  into  the  red  flame 
of  the  fire,  —  red  and  fitful  through  the  blue  smoke,  — 
and  thought  over  her  lord's  words.  It  might  be  the  third 
part  of  an  hour  after  Godwin  had  left  the  house,  when 
the  door  opened,  and  Githa,  expecting  the  return  of  her 
sons,  looked  up  eagerly,  but  it  was  Hilda,  who  stooped 
her  head  under  the  vault  of  the  door;  and  behind  Hilda 
came  two  of  her  maidens,  bearing  a  small  cyst  or  chest. 
The  Vala  motioned  to  her  attendants  to  lay  the  cyst  at 
the  feet  of  Githa,  and,  that  done,  with  lowly  salutation 
they  left  the  room. 

The  superstitions  of  the  Danes  were  strong  in  Githa  ; 
and  she  felt  an  indescribable  awe  when  Hilda  stood 
before  her,  the  red  light  playing  on  the  Vala's  stern  mar- 
'ble  face  and  contrasting  robes  of  funereal  black.  But, 
•with  all  her  awe,  Githa,  who,  not  educated  like  her 
daughter  Edith,  had  few  feminine  resources,  loved  the 
visits  of  her  mysterious  kinswoman.  She  loved  to  live 
lier  youth  over  again  in  discourse  on  the  wild  customs  and 
dark  rites  of  the  Dane  ;  and  even  her  awe  itself  had  the 
charm  which  the  ghost-tale  has  to  the  child,  —  for  the 
illiterate  are  ever  children.  So,  recovering  her  surprise  and 
her  first  pause,  she  rose  to  welcome  the  Vala,  and  said  : 

"  Hail,  Hilda,  and   thrice    hail !     The   day   has   been 


HAROLD.  197 

warm  and  the  way  long  ;  and,  ere  thou  takest  food  and 
wine,  let  me  prepare  for  thee  the  bath  for  thy  form,  or 
the  bath  for  thy  feet.  For  as  sleep  to  the  young,  is  the 
bath  to  the  old." 

Hilda  shook  her  head. 

"  Bringer  of  sleep  am  I,  and  the  baths  I  prepare  are  in 
the  halls  of  Valhalla.  Offer  not  to  the  Vala  the  bath  for 
mortal  weariness,  and  the  wine  and  the  food  meet  for 
human  guests.  Sit  thee  down,  daughter  of  the  Dane,  and 
thank  thy  new  gods  for  the  past  that  hath  been  thine. 
Is^ot  ours  is  the  present,  and  the  future  escapes  from  our 
dreams  ;  but  the  past  is  ours  ever,  and  all  eternity  cannot 
revoke  a  single  joy  that  the  moment  hath  known." 

Then  seating  herself  in  Godwin's  large  chair,  she  leaned 
over  her  seid-statf,  and  was  silent,  as  if  absorbed  in  her 
thoughts. 

"  Githa,"  she  said  at  last,  "  where  is  thy  lord  1  I  came 
to  touch  his  hands  and  to  look  on  his  brow." 

"  He  hath  gone  forth  into  the  mart,  and  my  sons  are 
from  home  ;  and  Harold  comes  hither  ere  night  from  his 
earldom." 

A  faint  smile,  as  of  triumph,  broke  over  the  lips  of  the 
Vala,  and  then  as  suddenly  yielded  to  an  expression  of 
great  sadness. 

"  Githa,"  she  said  slowly,  "  doubtless  thou  remem- 
berest  in  thy  young  days  to  have  seen  or  heard  of  the 
terrible  hell-maid  Belsta  1 " 

"  Ay,  ay,"  answered  Githa  shuddering ;  "  I  saw  her 
once  in  gloomy  weather,  driving  before  her  herds  of  dark- 
gray  cattle.  Ay,  ay ;  and  my  father  beheld  her  ere  his 
death,  riding  the  air  on  a  wolf,  with  a  snake  for  a  bridle. 
Why  asketh  thou  1 " 

"  Is  it  not  strange,"  said  Hilda,  evading  the  question, 
"  that   Belsta,  and   Heidr,  and   Hulla  of   old,  the  wolf- 


198  HAROLD. 

riders,  the  men-devourers,  could  win  to  the  uttermost 
secrets  of  galdra,  though  applied  only  to  purposes  the 
direst  and  fellest  to  man,  and  that  I,  though  ever  in  the 
future  —  I,  though  tasking  the  Normans  not  to  afflict  a 
foe,  but  to  shape  the  careers  of  those  I  love  —  I  find, 
indeed,  my  predictions  fulfilled ;  but  how  often,  alas  ! 
only  in  horror  and  doom  !  " 

"  How  so,  kinswoman,  how  so  ?  "  said  Githa,  awed,  yet 
charmed  in  the  awe,  and  drawing  her  chair  nearer  to  the 
mournful  sorceress.  "  Didst  thou  not  foretell  our  return 
in  triumph  from  the  unjust  outlawry,  and,  lo,  it  hath  come 
to  pass?  and  hast  thou  not"  —  here  Githa's  proud  face 
flushed  — -  "  foretold  also  that  my  stately  Harold  shall  wear 
the  diadem  of  a  king  1 " 

"  Truly,  the  first  came  to  pass,"  said  Hilda ;  "  but  —  " 
she  paused,  and  her  eye  fell  on  the  cyst ;  then  breaking 
oflF,  she  continued,  speaking  to  herself  rather  than  to 
Githa,  "  And  Harold's  dream,  what  did  that  portend  ? 
The  runes  fail  me,  and  the  dead  give  no  voice.  And 
beyond  one  dim  day,  in  which  his  betrothed  shall  clasp 
him  with  the  arms  of  a  bride,  all  is  dark  to  my  vision,  — 
dark,  dark.  Speak  not  to  me,  Githa;  for  a  burden, 
heavy  as  the  stone  on  a  grave,  rests  on  a  weary  heart !  " 

A  dead  silence  succeeded,  till,  pointing  with  her  staff 
to  the  fire,  the  Vala  said,  "  Lo,  where  the  smoke  and 
the  flame  contend !  —  the  smoke  rises  in  dark  gyres  to 
the  air,  and  escapes  to  join  the  wrack  of  clouds.  From  the 
first  to  the  last  we  trace  its  birth  and  its  fall ;  from  the 
heart  of  the  fire  to  the  descent  in  the  rain  :  so  is  it  with 
human  reason,  which  is  not  the  light  but  the  smoke ;  it 
struggles  but  to  darken  us ;  it  soars  but  to  melt  in  the 
vapor  and  dew.  Yet  lo,  the  flame  burns  in  our  hearth 
till  the  fuel  fails,  and  goes  at  last,  none  know  whither. 
But  it  lives  in  the  air,  though  we  see  it  not ;  it  lurks  in 


HAEOLD.  199 

the  stone,  and  waits  the  flash  of  the  steel ;  it  coils  round 
the  dry  leaves  and  sere  stalks,  and  a  touch  reillumines 
it ;  it  plays  in  the  marsh  ;  it  collects  in  the  heavens  ;  it 
appalls  us  in  the  liglitning  ;  it  gives  warmth  to  the  air,  — 
life  of  our  life,  and  element  of  all  elements.  0  Githa,  the 
flame  is  the  light  of  the  soul,  the  element  everlasting ; 
and  it  liveth  still,  when  it  escapes  from  our  view ;  it 
burnetii  in  the  shapes  to  which  it  passes ;  it  vanishes, 
hut  is  never  extinct." 

So  saying,  the  Vala's  lips  again  closed ;  and  again  both 
the  women  sat  silent  by  the  great  fire,  as  it  flared  and 
flickered  over  the  deep  lines  and  high  features  of  Githa, 
the  earl's  wife,  and  the  calm,  unwrinkled,  solemn  face  of 
the  melancholy  Vala. 


200  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER  II. 

While  these  conferences  took  place  in  the  House  of 
Godwin,  Harold,  on  his  way  to  London,  dismissed  his 
train  to  precede  him  to  his  father's  roof,  and,  striking 
across  the  country,  rode  fast  and  alone  towards  the  old 
Roman  abode  of  Hilda.  Months  had  elapsed  since  he 
had  seen  or  heard  of  Edith.  IS'ews  at  that  time,  I  need 
not  say,  was  rare  and  scarce,  and  limited  to  public  events, 
either  transmitted  by  special  nuncius,  or  passing  pilgrim, 
or  borne  from  lip  to  lip  by  the  talk  of  the  scattered  mul- 
titude. But  even  in  his  busy  and  anxious  duties  Harold 
had  in  vain  sought  to  banish  from  his  heart  the  image  of 
that  young  girl,  whose  life  he  needed  no  Vala  to  predict 
to  him  was  interwoven  with  the  fibres  of  his  own.  The 
obstacles  which,  while  he  yielded  to,  he  held  unjust  and 
tyrannical,  obstacles  allowed  by  his  reluctant  reason  and 
his  secret  ambition,  —  not  sanctified  by  conscience,  —  only 
inflamed  the  deep  strength  of  the  solitary  passion  his 
life  had  known ;  a  passion  that,  dating  from  the  very 
childhood  of  Edith,  had,  often  unknown  to  himself,  ani- 
mated his  desire  of  fame,  and  mingled  with  his  visions  of 
power.  Nor,  though  hope  was  far  and  dim,  was  it  extinct. 
The  legitimate  heir  of  Edward  the  Confessor  was  a  prince 
living  in  the  court  of  the  Emperor,  of  fair  repute,  and 
himself  wedded  ;  and  Edward's  health,  always  precarious, 
seemed  to  forbid  any  very  prolonged  existence  to  the 
reigning  king.     Therefore,  he  thought  that  through  the 


HAROLD.  201 

successor,  whose  tlirone  would  rest  in  safety  upon  Harold's 
support,  lie  might  easily  obtain  that  dispensation  from  the 
Pope  which  he  knew  the  present  king  would  never  ask, 
—  a  dispensation  rarely,  indeed,  if  ever,  accorded  to  any 
subject,  and  which,  therefore,  needed  all  a  king's  power  to 
back  it. 

So  in  that  hope,  and  fearful  lest  it  should  be  quenched 
forever  by  Edith's  adoption  of  the  veil  and  the  irrevocable 
vow,  with  a  beating,  disturbed,  but  joyful  heart,  he  rode 
over  field  and  through  forest  to  the  old  Roman  house. 

He  emerged  at  length  to  the  rear  of  the  villa,  and  the 
sun,  fast  hastening  to  its  decline,  shone  full  upon  the 
rude  columns  of  the  Druid  temple  ;  and  there,  as  he  had 
seen  her  before,  when  he  had  first  spoken  of  love  and  its 
barriers,  he  beheld  the  young  maiden. 

He  sprang  from  his  horse,  and,  leaving  the  well-trained 
animal  loose  to  browse  on  the  waste  land,  he  ascended  the 
knoll.  He  stole  noiselessly  behind  Edith,  and  his  foot 
stumbled  against  the  gravestone  of  the  dead  Titan-Saxon 
of  old  ;  but  the  apparition,  whether  real  or  fancied,  and 
the  dream  that  had  followed,  had  long  passed  from  his 
memory,  and  no  superstition  was  in  the  heart  springing  to 
the  lips  that  cried  "  Editii  "  once  again. 

The  girl  started,  looked  round,  and  fell  upon  his  breast. 

It  was  some  moments  before  she  recovered  conscious- 
ness, and  then,  withdrawing  herself  gently  from  his  arms, 
she  leaned  for  support  against  the  Teuton  altar. 

She  was  much  changed  since  Harold  had  seen  her  last : 
her  cheek  had  grown  pale  and  thin,  and  her  rounded  form 
seemed  wasted  ;  and  sharp  grief,  as  he  gazed,  shot  through 
the  soul  of  Harold. 

"Thou  hast  pined,  thou  hast  suffered,"  said  he,  mourn- 
fully ;  "  and  I,  wlio  would  shed  my  life's  blood  to  take 
one  from  tliy  sorrows,  or  a'ld  to  one  of  thy  joys,  have 


202  HAROLD. 

been  afar,  unable  to  comfort,  perhaps  only  a  cause  of  thy 
woe." 

"  No,  Harold,"  said  Edith,  faintly,  "  never  ot  woe ; 
ahvays  of  comfort,  even  in  absence.  I  have  been  ill,  and 
Hilda  hath  tried  rune  and  charm  all  in  vain  ;  but  I  am 
better,  now  that  spring  hath  come  tardily  forth,  and  I 
look  on  the  fresh  flowers,  and  hear  the  song  of  the 
birds." 

But  tears  were  in  the  sound  of  her  voice  while  she 
spoke. 

"  And  they  have  not  tormented  thee  again  with  the 
thoughts  of  the  convent  1  " 

"  They  ?  no  ;  —  but  my  soul,  yes.  0  Harold,  release 
me  from  my  promise ;  for  the  time  already  hath  come 
that  thy  sister  foretold  to  me  ;  the  silver  cord  is  loosened, 
and  the  golden  bowl  is  broken,  and  I  would  fain  take  the 
wings  of  the  dove,  and  be  at  peace." 

"Is  it  so?  —  Is  there  peace  in  the  home  where  the 
thought  of  Harold  becomes  a  sin  ?  " 

"  Not  sin  then  and  there,  Harold,  not  sin.  Thy  sister 
hailed  the  convent  when  she  tliought  of  prayer  for  those 
she  loved." 

"  Prate  not  to  me  of  my  sister  !  "  said  Harold,  through 
his  set  teeth.  "  It  is  but  a  mockery  to  talk  of  prayer  for 
th-e  heart  that  thou  thyself  rendest  in  twain.  Where  is 
Hilda  1     I  would  see  her." 

"  She  hath  gone  to  thy  father's  house  with  a  gift ;  and 
it  was  to  watch  for  her  return  that  I  sat  on  the  green 
knoll." 

The  earl  then  drew  near  and  took  her  hand  and  sat  by 
her  side,  and  they  conversed  long.  But  Harold  saw  with 
a  fierce  pang  that  Edith's  heart  was  set  upon  the  convent, 
and  that  even  in  his  presence,  and  despite  his  soothing 
words,  she  was  broken-spirited  and  despondent.     It  seemed 


HAROLD.  203 

as  if  her  youth  and  life  had  gone  from  her,  and  the  day 
had  come  in  which  she  said,  "  There  is  no  pleasure." 

I^ever  had  he  seen  her  thus ;  and,  deeply  moved  as 
Avell  as  keenly  stung,  he  rose  at  length  to  depart ;  her 
hand  lay  passive  in  his  parting  clasp,  and  a  slight  shiver 
Avent  over  her  frame. 

"  Farewell,  Edith ;  when  I  return  from  "Windshore,  I 
shall  be  at  my  old  home  yonder,  and  we  shall  meet  again." 

Edith's  lips  murmured  inaudibly,  and  she  bent  her  eyes 
to  the  ground. 

Slowly  Harold  regained  his  steed,  and  as  he  rode  on  he 
looked  behind,  and  waved  oft  his  hand  ;  but  Edith  sat 
motionless,  her  eyes  still  on  the  ground,  and  he  saw  not 
the  tears  that  fell  from  them  fast  and  burning ;  nor  heard 
he  the  low  voice  that  groaned  amidst  the  heathen  ruins, 
"  Mary,  sweet  mother,  shelter  me  from  my  own  heart !  " 

The  sun  had  set  before  Harold  gained  the  long  and 
spacious  abode  of  his  father.  All  around  it  lay  the 
roofs  and  huts  of  the  great  earl's  special  tradesmen,  for 
even  his  goldsmith  was  but  his  freed  ceorl.  The  house 
itself  stretched  far  from  the  Thames  inland,  with  several 
low  courts  built  only  of  timber,  rugged  and  shapeless, 
but  filled  Avith  bold  men,  then  the  great  furniture  of  a 
noble's  halls. 

Amidst  the  shouts  of  hundreds,  eager  to  hold  his  stir- 
rup, the  earl  dismounted,  passed  the  swarming  hall,  and 
entered  the  room,  in  which  he  found  Hilda  and  Githa, 
—  and  Godwin,  who  had  preceded  his  entry  but  a  few 
minutes. 

In  the  beautiful  reverence  of  son  to  father,  which 
made  one  of  the  loveliest  features  of  the  Saxon  charac- 
ter ^  (as  the  frequent  want  of  it  makes  the  most  hateful 

1  The  chronicler,  however,  laments  that  the  liousehold  ties,  for- 
merly  so  strong  with  the  Anglo-Saxon,  had  been  much  weakened 
in  the  age  prior  to  the  Conquest. 


204  HAROLD. 

of  the  Norman  vices),  the  all-powerful  HaroM  bowed 
his  knee  to  the  old  earl,  who  placed  his  hand  on  his 
head  in  benediction,  and  then  kissed  him  on  the  cheek 
and  brow. 

"  Thy  kiss,  too,  dear  mother,"  said  the  younger  earl  ; 
and  Githa's  embrace,  if  more  cordial  than  her  lord's,  was 
not,  perhaps,  more  fond. 

"  Greet  Hilda,  my  son,"  said  Godwin  ;  "  she  hath 
brought  me  a  gift,  and  she  hath  tarried  to  place  it  under 
thy  special  care.  Thou  alone  must  heed  the  treasure, 
and  open  the  casket.  But  wdien  and  where,  my  kins- 
woman 1 " 

"  On  the  sixth  day  after  thy  coming  to  the  king's 
hall,"  answered  Hilda,  not  returning  the  smile  with 
which  Godwin  spoke,  —  "  on  the  sixth  day,  Harold,  open 
the  chest,  and  take  out  the  robe  which  hath  been  spun 
in  the  house  of  Hilda  for  Godwin  the  Earl.  And  now, 
Godwin,  I  have  clasped  thine  hand,  and  I  have  looked 
on  thy  brow,  and  my  mission  is  done ;  and  I  must  wend 
liomeward." 

"  That  shalt  thou  not,  Hilda,"  said  the  hospitable  earl ; 
"  the  meanest  wayfarer  hath  a  right  to  bed  and  board  in 
this  house  for  a  night  and  a  day,  and  thou  wilt  not  dis- 
grace us  by  leaving  our  thresliold,  the  bread  unbroken 
and  the  couch  unpressed.  Old  friend,  we  were  young 
together,  and  thy  face  is  welcome  to  me  as  the  memory 
of  former  days." 

Hilda  shook  her  head,  and  one  of  those  rare,  and,  for 
that  reason,  most  touching  expressions  of  tenderness,  of 
wliich  the  calm  and  rigid  character  of  her  features,  when 
in  repose,  seemed  scarcely  susceptible,  softened  her  eye, 
and  relaxed  the  firm  lines  of  her  lips. 

"  Son  of  Wolnoth,"  said  she,  gently,  "  not  under  thy 
roof-tree  should  lodge  the  raven  of  bode.     Bread  have  I 


HAROLD.  205 

not  broken  since  yestere'en,  and  sleep  will  be  far  from 
my  eyes  to-night.  Fear  not,  for  my  people  without  are 
stout  and  armed,  and  for  the  rest  there  lives  not  the  man 
whose  arm  can  have  power  over  Hilda." 

She  took  Harold's  hand  as  she  spoke,  and,  leading  him 
forth,  whispered  in  his  ear,  "  I  would  have  a  word  with 
thee  ere  we  part."  Then,  reaching  the  threshold,  she 
Avaved  her  wand  thrice  over  the  floor,  and  muttered  in 
tlie  Danish  tongue  a  rude  verse,  which,  translated,  ran 
somewhat  thus  :  — 

"  All  free  from  the  knot 

Glide  the  thread  of  the  skein, 
And  rest  to  the  labor, 
And  peace  to  the  pain  !  " 

"  It  is  a  death-dirge,"  said  Githa,  with  whitening  lips  ; 
but  she  spoke  inly,  and  neither  husband  nor  son  heard 
her  words. 

Hilda  and  Harold  passed  in  silence  through  the  hall, 
and  the  Vala's  attendants,  with  spears  and  torches,  rose 
from  the  settles,  and  went  before  to  the  outer  court,  where 
snorted  impatiently  her  black  palfrey. 

Halting  in  the  midst  of  the  court,  she  said  to  Harold  in 
a  low  voice,  — 

"  At  sunset  Ave  part,  —  at  sunset  we  shall  meet  again. 
And  behold,  the  star  rises  on  the  sunset  ;  and  the  star, 
broader  and  brighter,  shall  rise  on  the  sunset  then  ! 
When  thy  liand  draws  the  robe  from  the  chest,  think  on 
Hilda,  and  know  that  at  that  hour  she  stands  Ijy  the 
grave  of  the  Saxon  warrior,  and  that  from  the  grave 
dawns  the  future.     Farewell  to  thee !  " 

Harold  longed  to  speak  to  her  of  Edith,  but  a  strange 
aM'e  at  his  heart  chained  his  lips  ;  so  he  stood  silent  by 
the  great  wooden  gates  of  the  rude  house.     The  torches 


206  HAEOLD. 

flamed  round  him,  and  Hilda's  face  seemed  lurid  in  the 
glare.  There  he  stood  musing  long  after  torch  and  ceorl 
had  passed  away,  nor  did  he  wake  from  his  reverie  till 
Gurth,  springing  from  his  panting  horse,  passed  his  arm 
round  the  earl's  shoulder,  and  cried,  — 

"  How  did  I  miss  thee,  my  brother?  and  why  didst 
thou  forsake  thy  train  1 " 

"  I  will  tell  thee  anon  Gurth,  has  ray  father  ailed  ? 
There  is  that  in  his  face  which  I  like  not." 

"  He  hath  not  complained  of  misease,"  said  Gurth, 
startled  ;  "  hut  now  thou  speakest  of  it,  his  mood  hath 
altered  of  late,  and  he  hath  wandered  much  alone,  or 
only  with  the  old  hound  and  the  old  falcon." 

Then  Harold  turned  back,  and  his  heart  was  full,  and 
"when  he  reached  the  house,  his  father  was  sitting  in  the 
hall  on  his  chair  of  state  ;  and  Githa  sat  on  his  right  liand, 
and  a  little  below  her  sat  Tostig  and  Leofwine,  who  had 
come  in  from  the  bear-hunt  by  the  river-gate,  and  were 
talking  loud  and  merrily  ;  and  thegns  and  cnehts  sat  all 
around,  and  there  was  wassail  as  Harold  entered  ;  but 
the  earl  looked  only  to  his  father,  and  he  saw  that  his 
eyes  were  absent  from  the  glee,  and  that  he  was  bending 
his  head  over  the  old  falcon  which  sat  on  his  wrist. 


HAROLD.  207 


CHAPTER  IIL 

No  subject  of  England,  since  the  race  of  Cerdic  sat  on 
the  throne,  ever  entered  the  courtyard  of  Windshore 
with  such  train  and  such  state  as  Earl  Godwin.  Proud 
of  that  first  occasion,  since  his  return,  to  do  homage  to 
him  with  whose  cause  that  of  England  against  the 
stranger  was  bound,  all  truly  English  at  heart  amongst 
the  thegns  of  the  land  swelled  his  retinue.  Whether 
Saxon  or  Dane,  those  who  alike  loved  tlie  laws  and  the 
soil  came  from  north  and  from  south  to  the  peaceful  ban- 
ner of  the  old  earl  ;  but  most  of  these  were  of  the  past 
generation,  for  the  rising  race  vierc  still  dazzled  by  the 
pomp  of  the  Noi'man  ;  and  the  fashion  of  English  man- 
ners, and  the  pride  in  English  deeds,  had  gone  out  of 
date  with  long  locks  and  1)earded  chins.  Nor  there  were 
the  bishops  and  abbots  and  the  lords  of  the  Church  :  for 
dear  to  them  already  the  fame  of  the  Norman  piety,  and 
they  shared  the  distaste  of  their  holy  king  to  the  strong 
sense  and  homely  religion  of  Godwin,  who  founded  no 
convents,  and  rode  to  war  with  no  relics  round  his  neck ; 
but  they  with  Godwin  were  the  stout  and  the  frank  and 
the  free,  in  whom  rested  the  pith  and  marrow  of  English 
manhood ;  and  they  who  were  against  him  were  the  blind 
and  willing  and  fated  fathers  of  slaves  unborn. 

Not  then  the  stately  castle  we  now  behold,  which  is 
of  the  masonry  of  a  prouder  race,  nor  on  the  same  site, 
but  two  miles  distant  on  the  winding  of  the  river-shore 
(whence  it  took  its  name),  a  rude  building,  partly  of  tim- 


208  HAT^OI.D. 

ber  and  partly  of  Roman  brick,  adjoining  a  large  monas- 
tery and  surrounded  by  a  small  hamlet,  constituted  the 
palace  of  the  saint  king. 

So  rode  the  earl  and  his  four  fair  sons,  all  abreast,  into 
the  courtyard  of  Windshore.^  Now  when  King  Edward 
heard  the  tramp  of  the  steeds  and  the  hum  of  the  multi- 
tudes, as  he  sat  in  his  closet  with  his  abbots  and  priests, 
all  in  still  contemplation  of  the  thumb  of  St.  Judc,  the 
king  asked,  — 

"  What  army,  in  the  day  of  peace  and  the  time  of 
Easter,  enters  the  gates  of  our  palace?" 

Then  an  al)liot  rose  and  looked  out  of  the  narrow  win- 
dow, and  said  with  a  groan,  — 

"  Army  thou  mayest  well  call  it,  0  king  !  — -and  foes  to 
us  and  to  thee  head  the  legions  —  " 

"  Injyrinis,'^  quoth  our  abbot  the  scholar  ;  "  thou  speak- 
est,  I  trow,  of  the  wicked  earl  and  his  sons." 

Tlie  king's  face  clianged.  "  Come  they,"  said  he, 
"  with  so  large  a  train  ?  This  smells  more  of  vaunt  than 
of  loyalty  :  naught,  — ■  very  naught." 

"  Alack  ! "  said  one  of  the  conclave,  "  I  fear  me  that 
tlie  men  of  Belial  will  work  us  harm  ;  the  heathen  are 
mighty,  and  —  " 

"Fear  not,"  said  Edward,  with  I)enign  loftiness,  observ- 
ing that  his  guests  grew  pale,  and  himself,  though  often 
weak  to  childishness,  and  morally  wavering  and  irreso- 
lute, still  so  far  king  and    gentleman  that  he  knew  no 

1  Some  authorities  state  Winchester  as  tlie  scene  of  these  mem- 
orable festivities.  Old  Windsor  Castle  is  supposed  by  Mr.  Lysons 
tu  have  ocnupied  the  site  of  a  farm  bf  Mr.  Islierwood's,  surrounded 
hy  a  moat,  about  two  miles  distant  from  New  Windsor.  He  con- 
jectures that  it  was  still  occasionally  inhabited  by  tlie  Norman 
kinjj:s  till  1110.  The  ville  surronndiiifij  it  only  contained  ninety- 
five  houses,  paying  gabeltax,  in  the  Norman  survey. 


HAROLD.  209 

craven  fear  of  the  body.  "  Fear  not  for  me,  my  fathers  ; 
humble  as  I  am,  I  am  strong  in  the  faith  of  heaven  and 
its  angels." 

The  churchmen  looked  at  each  other,  sly,  yet  abashed  ; 
it  was  not  precisely  for  the  king  that  they  feared. 

Then  spoke  Aired,  the  good  prelate  and  constant 
peacemaker,  — •  fair  column  and  lone  one  of  the  fast- 
crumbling  Saxon  Church.  "  It  is  ill  in  you,  brethren, 
to  arraign  the  truth  and  good  meaning  of  those  who 
honor  your  king ;  and  in  these  days  that  lord  should 
ever  be  the  most  welcome  who  brings  to  the  halls  of  his 
king  the  largest  number  of  hearts,  stout  and  leal." 

"  By  your  leave,  brother  Aired,"  said  Stigand,  who, 
though  from  motives  of  policy  he  had  aided  those  who 
besought  the  king  not  to  peril  his  crown  by  resisting  the 
return  of  Godwin,  benefited  too  largely  by  the  abuses  of 
the  Church  to  be  sincerely  espoused  to  the  cause  of  the 
strong-minded  earl,  —  "  by  your  leave,  brother  Aired,  to 
every  leal  heart  is  a  ravenous  mouth  ;  and  the  treasures 
of  the  king  are  wellnigh  drained  in  feeding  these  hungry 
and  welcomeless  visitors.  Durst  I  counsel,  my  lord,  I 
would  pray  him,  as  a  matter  of  policy,  to  baffle  this  astute 
and  proud  earl.  He  would  fain  have  the  king  feast  in 
public,  that  he  might  daunt  him  and  the  Church  with 
the  array  of  his  friends." 

"I  conceive  thee,  my  father,"  said  Edward,  M-ith  more 
quickness  than  habitual,  and  with  the  cunning,  sharp, 
though  guileless,  that  belongs  to  minds  undeveloped,  — 
"  I  conceive  thee  ;  it  is  good  and  most  politic.  This  our 
orgulous  earl  shall  not  have  his  triumph,  and,  so  fresh 
from  his  exile,  brave  his  king  with  the  mundane  parade 
of  his  power.  Our  health  is  our  excuse  for  our  absence 
from  the  banquet,  and,  sooth  to  say,  we  marvel  much 
why  Easter  should  be  held  a  fitting  time  for  feasting  and 

VOL.  I.  —  14 


210  HAROLD. 

mirth.  Wherefore,  Hugoline,  my  chamberlain,  advise 
the  earl  that  to-day  we  keep  fast  till  the  sunset,  when 
temperately,  with  eggs,  bread,  and  fish,  we  will  sustain 
Adam's  nature.  Pray  him  and  his  sons  to  attend  us,  — 
they  alone  be  our  guests."  And  with  a  sound  that 
seemed  a  laugh,  or  the  ghost  of  a  laugh,  low  and  chuck- 
ling, —  for  Edward  had  at  moments  an  innocent  humor 
Avhich  his  monkish  biographer  disdained  not  to  note,^  — 
he  flung  himself  back  in  his  chair.  The  priests  took  the 
cue,  and  shook  their  sides  heartily,  as  Hugoline  left  the 
room,  not  ill  pleased,  by  the  way,  to  escape  an  invitation 
to  the  eggs,  bread,  and  fish. 

Aired  sighed  ;  and  said,  "  For  the  earl  and  his  sons 
this  is  honor  ;  but  the  other  earls  and  the  thegns  will 
miss  at  the  banquet  him  whom  tliey  design  but  to  honor, 
and  —  " 

"  I  have  said,"  interrupted  Edward,  dryly,  and  with  a 
look  of  fatigue. 

"  And,"  observed  another  churchman,  with  malice,  "  at 
least  the  young  earls  will  be  humbled,  for  they  will  not 
sit  with  the  king  and  their  fatlier,  as  they  would  in  the 
Hall,  and  must  serve  my  lord  with  napkin  and  wine." 

"  I7ip7'inis,"  quoth  our  scholar  the  abbot,  "  that  will  be 
rare  !  I  would  I  were  by  to  see  ;  but  this  Godwin  is  a 
man  of  treachery  and  wile,  and  my  lord  should  beware  of 
the  fate  of  murdered  Alfred,  his  l^rother  !  " 

The  king  started,  and  pressed  his  hands  to  his  eyes. 

"  How  darest  thou.  Abbot  of  Fatchere,"  cried  Aired, 
indignantly,  —  "  how  darest  thou  revive  grief  without 
remedy,  and  slander  without  proof  1 " 

"  Without  proof  1 "  echoed  Edward,  in  a  hollow  voice. 
"He  who  couM  murder,  could  well  stoop  to  forswear! 
Without  proof  before  man  ;  but  did  lie  try  the  ordeals  of 
1  AiLKED :  "  De  y it.  Edward,  Confess." 


HAROLD.  211 

God?  —  did  his  feet  pass  the  ploughshare?  —  did  his 
hand  grasp  the  seething-irou  1  Verily,  verily,  thou  didst 
wrong  to  name  to  me  Alfred  my  brother  !  I  shall  see  his 
sightless  and  gore-dropping  sockets  iii  the  face  of  Godwin, 
this  day,  at  my  board." 

The  king  rose  in  great  disorder ;  and  after  pacing  the 
room  some  moments,  disregardful  of  the  silent  and  scared 
looks  of  his  churchmen,  waved  his  hand,  in  sign  to  them 
to  depart.  All  took  the  hint  at  once  save  Aired  ;  but  he, 
lingering  the  last,  approached  the  king  with  dignity  in 
his  step  and  compassion  in  his  eyes. 

"  Banish  fron^  thy  breast,  0  king  and  son,  thoughts 
unmeet,  and  of  doubtful  charity  !  All  that  man  could 
know  of  Godwin's  innocence  or  guilt  —  the  suspicion  of 
the  vulgar,  the  acquittal  of  his  peers  —  was  known  to 
thee  before  thou  didst  seek  his  aid  for  thy  throne,  and 
didst  take  his  child  for  thy  wife.  Too  late  is  it  now  to 
suspect ;  leave  thy  doubts  to  the  solemn  day,  which  draws 
nigh  to  the  old  man,  thy  wife's  father  ! " 

"  Ha  !  "  said  the  king,  seeming  not  to  heed,  or  wilfully 
to  misunderstand  the  prelate,  —  "  ha,  leave  him  to  God  ; 
—  I  will  !  " 

He  turned  away  impatiently  ;  and  the  prelate  reluc- 
tantly departed. 


212  HAKOLD. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

TosTiG  chafed  mightily  at  the  king's  message ;  and,  on 
Harold's  attempt  to  pacify  him,  grew  so  violent  that 
nothing  short  of  the  cold,  stern  command  of  his  father, 
who  carried  with  him  that  weight  of  authority  never 
known  but  to  those  in  whom  wrath  is  still  and  passion 
noiseless,  imposed  sullen  peace  on  his  son's  rugged  nature. 
But  the  taunts  heaped  by  Tostig  upon  Harold  disquieted 
the  old  earl,  and  his  brow  was  yet  sad  with  prophetic  care 
when  he  entered  the  royal  apartments.  He  had  been 
introduced  into  the  king's  presence  but  a  moment  before 
Hugoline  led  the  way  to  the  chamber  of  repast,  and  the 
greeting  between  king  and  earl  had  been  brief  and 
formal. 

Under  the  canopy  of  state  were  placed  but  two  chairs, 
for  the  king  and  the  queen's  father  ;  and  the  four  sons, 
Harold,  Tostig,  Leofwine,  and  Gurth,  stood  behind. 
Such  was  the  primitive  custom  of  ancient  Teutonic 
kings ;  and  the  feudal  J^orman  monarchs  oidy  enforced, 
though  with  more  pomp  and  more  rigor,  the  ceremonial 
of  the  forest  patriarchs,  —  youth  to  wait  on  age,  and  the 
ministers  of  the  realm  on  those  whom  their  policy  had 
made  chiefs  in  council  and  war. 

The  earl's  mind,  already  embittered  by  the  scene  with 
his  sons,  was  chafed  yet  more  by  the  king's  unloving 
coldness ;  for  it  is  natural  to  man,  however  worldly,  to 
feel  affection  for  those  he  has  served,  and  Godwin  had 
won  Edward  his  crown ;  nor,  despite  his  warlike  though 


HAROLD.  213 

bloodless  return,  coukl  even  monk  or  ISTorman,  in  count- 
ing up  the  old  earl's  crimes,  say  that  he  had  ever  failed 
in  personal  respect  to  the  king  he  had  made  ;  nor  over- 
great  for  sul)ject,  as  the  earl's  power  must  be  confessed, 
will  historian  now  be  found  to  say  that  it  had  not  been 
well  for  Saxon  England  if  Godwin  had  found  more  favor 
witli  his  king,  and  monk  and  Norman  less.^ 

■So  the  old  earl's  stout  heart  was  stung,  and  he  looked 
from  those  deep,  impenetrable  eyes  mournfully  upon 
Edward's  chilling  brow. 

And  Harold,  with  whom  all  household  ties  were  strong, 
"but  to  whom  his  great  father  was  especially  dear,  watched 
his  face,  and  saw  that  it  was  very  flushed.  But  the  prac- 
tised courtier  sought  to  rally  his  spirits,  and  to  smile  and 
jest. 

From  smile  and  jest,  the  king  turned  and  asked  for 
wine.  Harold,  starting,  advanced  with  the  goblet ;  as  he 
did  so,  he  stumbled  with  one  foot,  but  lightl}''  recovered 
himself  with  the  other ;  and  Tostig  laughed  scornfully  at 
Harold's  awkwardness. 

The  old  earl  observed  both  stumble  and  laugh,  and, 
willing  to  suggest  a  lesson  to  both  his  sons,  said,  laugh- 
ing pleasantly,  "  Lo,  Harold,  how  the  left  foot  saves 
the  right  !  —  so  one  brother,  thou  seest,  helps  the 
other!  "2 

King  Edward  looked  up  suddenly. 

1  "Is  it  astonishing,"  asked  the  people  (referring  to  Edward's 
preference  of  the  Normans),  "that  the  anther  and  support  of 
Edward's  reign  should  be  indignant  at  seeing  new  men  from  a 
foreign  nation  raised  above  him,  and  yet  never  does  he  utter  one 
harsh  word  to  the  man  whom  he  himself  created  king  ?  "  — 
Hazlitt's  "Thierry,"  vol.  i.  p.  126. 

This  is  the  English  account  {versus  the  Norman),  There  can  be 
little  doubt  that  it  is  the  true  one. 

^  Henry  of  Huntingdon,  &c. 


214  HAIIOLD. 

"  And  SO,  Godwin,  also,  had  my  brother  Alfred  helped 
me,  hadst  thou  permitted." 

The  old  earl,  galled  to  the  quick,  gazed  a  moment  on 
the  king,  and  his  cheek  was  purple,  and  his  eyes  seemed 
bloodshot. 

"  O  Edward !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  thou  speakest  to  me 
hardly  and  unkindly  of  thy  brother  Alfred,  and  often 
hast  thou  thus  more  than  hinted  that  I  caused  his 
death." 

The  king  made  no  answer. 

*'  May  this  crumb  of  bread  choke  me,"  said  the  earl, 
in  great  emotion,  "  if  I  am  guilty  of  thy  brother's 
blood  ! "  1 

But  scarcely  had  the  bread  touched  his  lips,  when, 
his  eyes  fixed,  the  long  warning  symptoms  Avere  ful- 
filled. And  he  fell  to  the  ground,  under  the  table, 
sudden  and  heavy,  smitten   by  the  stroke  of  apoplexy, 

Harold  and  Gurth  sprang  forward  ;  they  drew  their 
father  from  the  ground.  His  face,  still  deep-red  with 
streaks  of  purple,  rested  on  Harold's  breast ;  and  the  son, 
kneeling,  called  in  anguish  on  his  father :  the  ear  was 
deaf. 

Then  said  the  king,  rising,  — 

"  It  is  the  hand  of  God  :  remove  him  !  "  and  he  swept 
from  the  room,  exulting. 

1  Henry  of  Huntingdon:  "Bromt.  Chron."  &c. 


HAKOLD.  215 


CHAPTER  V. 

For  five  days  and  five  nights  did  Godwin  lie  speechless.^ 
And  Harold  watclied  over  liim  niglit  and  day.  And  tlie 
leeches  '^  would  not  bleed  him  because  the  season  was 
against  it,  in  the  increase  of  the  moon  and  the  tides,  but 
they  bathed  his  temples  with  wheat  Hour  boiled  in  milk, 
according  to  a  prescription  which  an  angel,  in  a  dream, ^ 
had  advised  to  another  patient ;  and  tliey  placed  a  plate 
of  lead  on  his  breast,  marked  with  five  crosses,  saying  a 
paternoster  over  each  cross ;  together  with  other  metlical 
specifics  in  great  esteem.'*  But,  nevertheless,  five  days 
and  five  nights  did  Godwin  lie  speechless  ;  and  the  leeches 
then  feared  that  human  skill  was  in  vain. 

The  effect  produced  on  the  court,  not  more  by  the 
earl's  death-stroke  than  the  circumstances  preceding  it, 
was  such  as  defies  description.  With  Godwin's  old  com- 
rades in  arms  it  was  simple  and  honest  grief ;  but  with 
all  those  under  the  influence  of  the  priests,  the  event  was 
regarded  as  a  direct  punishment  from  Heaven.  The  pre- 
vious words  of  the  king,  repeated  by  Edward  to  his 
monks,  circulated  from  lip  to  lip,  with  sundry  exaggera- 
tions as  it  travelled :  and  the  superstition  of  the  day  had 
the   more  excuse,   inasmuch    as   the    speech    of    Godwin 

1  Hoveclen. 

2  The  origin  of  the  word  leech  (physician),  which  has  puzzled 
some  inquirers,  is  from  lich,  or  leac,  a  body.  Leich  is  the  old 
Saxon  word  for  surgeon. 

3  Sharon  Turner,  vol.  i.  p.  472.  *  Fosbrooke. 


216  HAROLD. 

touched  near  upon  the  defiance  of  one  of  the  most  pop- 
ular ordeals  of  the  accused,  —  namely,  that  called  the 
"corsned,"  in  which  a  piece  of  bread  was  given  to  the 
supposed  criminal ;  if  he  swallowed  it  with  ease,  he  was 
innocent;  if  it  stuck  in  his  throat,  or  choked  him,  nay, 
if  he  shook  and  turned  pale,  he  was  guilty  Godwin's 
words  had  appeared  to  invite  the  ordeal ;  God  had  heard 
and  stricken  down  the  presumptuous  perjurer  ! 

Unconscious,  happily,  of  these  attempts  to  blacken  the 
name  of  his  dying  father,  Harold,  towards  the  gray  dawn 
succeeding  the  fifth  night,  thought  that  he  heard  Godwin 
stir  in  his  bed.  So  he  put  aside  the  curtain,  and  bent 
over  him.  The  old  earl's  eyes  were  wide  open,  and  the 
red  color  had  gone  from  his  cheeks,  so  that  he  was  pale 
as  death. 

"  How  fares  it,  dear  father?  "  asked  Harold. 

Godwin  smiled  fondly,  and  tried  to  speak,  but  his  voice 
died  in  a  convulsive  rattle.  Lifting  himself  up,  however, 
with  an  effort,  he  pressed  tenderly  the  hand  that  clasped 
his  own,  leaned  his  head  on  Harold's  breast  and  so  gave 
up  the  ghost. 

When  Harold  was  at  last  aware  that  the  struggle  was 
over,  he  laid  the  gray  head  gently  on  the  pillow  ;  he  closed 
the  eyes,  and  kissed  the  lips,  and  knelt  down  and  prayed. 
Then,  seating  himself  at  a  little  distance,  he  covered  his 
face  with  his  mantle. 

At  this  time  his  brother  Garth,  wlio  had  chiefly 
shared  watch  with  Harold,  —  for  Tostig,  foreseeing  his 
father's  death,  was  busy  soliciting  thegn  and  earl  to  sup- 
port his  own  claims  to  the  earldom  about  to  be  vacant ; 
and  Leofwine  had  gone  to  London  on  the  previous  day 
to  summon  Gitlia,  who  was  hourly  expected,  —  Gurth,  I 
say,  entered  the  room  on  tiptoe,  and  seeing  his  brother's 
attitude,  guessed  that  ;t]l  was  over.      He  passed  on  to  the 


HAROLD.  217 

table,  touk  up  the  lamp,  and  looked  long  on  his  father's 
face.  That  strange  smile  of  the  dead,  common  alike  to 
innocent  and  guilty,  had  already  settled  on  the  serene 
lips  ;  and  that  no  less  strange  transformation  from  age  to 
youth,  when  the  wrinkles  vanish,  and  the  features  come 
out  clear  and  sharp  from  the  hollows  of  care  and  years, 
had  already  begun.  And  the  old  man  seemed  sleeping  in 
his  prime. 

So  Gurth  kissed  the  dead,  as  Harold  had  done  before 
him,  and  came  up  and  sat  himself  by  his  brother's  feet, 
and  rested  his  head  on  Harold's  knee ;  nor  would  he 
speak,  till,  appalled  by  the  long  silence  of  the  earl,  he 
drew  away  the  mantle  from  his  brother's  face  with  a 
gentle  hand,  and  the  large  tears  were  rolling  down 
Harold's  cheeks. 

"  Be  soothed,  my  brother,"  said  Gurth  ;  "  our  father 
has  lived  for  glory ;  his  age  was  ])ros]3erous,  and  his  years 
more  than  those  which  the  Psalmist  allots  to  man. 
Come  and  look  on  his  face,  Harold ;  its  calm  will  comfort 
thee." 

Harold  obeyed  the  hand  that  led  him  like  a  child  ;  in 
passing  towards  the  bed,  his  eye  fell  upon  the  cyst  which 
Hilda  had  given  to  the  old  earl,  and  a  chill  shot  through 
his  veins. 

"Gurth,"  said  he,  "is  not  this  the  morning  of  the 
sixth  day  in  which  we  have  been  at  the  king's  court  1  " 

"  It  is  the  morning  of  the  .sixth  day." 

Then  Harold  toolc  forth  the  key  which  Hilda  had 
given  him,  and  unlocked  the  cyst,  and  there  lay  the 
white  winding-sheet  of  the  dead,  and  a  scroll.  Harold 
took  the  scroll,  and  bent  over  it,  reading  by  the  mingled 
light  of  the  lamp  and  the  dawn,  — 

"  All  hail,  Harold,  heir  of  Godwin  the  great,  and  Githa 
the    king-born !      Thou    hast    obeyed    Hilda,    and    thou 


218  HAROLD. 

knowest  now  that  Hilda's  eyes  read  the  future,  and  her 
lips  speak  the  dark  words  of  truth.  Bow  thy  heart  to 
the  Vala,  and  mistrust  the  wisdom  that  sees  only  the 
things  of  the  daylight.  As  the  valor  of  the  warrior  and 
the  song  of  the  scald,  so  is  the  lore  of  the  prophetess. 
It  is  not  of  the  bod}',  it  is  soul  within  soul ;  it  marshals 
events  and  men,  like  the  valor,  —  it  moulds  the  air  into 
substance,  like  the  song.  Bow  thy  heart  to  the  Vala. 
Flowers  bloom  over  the  grave  of  the  dead.  And  the 
young  plant  soars  high,  when  the  king  of  the  woodland 
'aes  low  !  " 


HAROLD.  219 


CHAPTER   VL 

The  sun  rose,  and  the  stairs  and  passages  without  were 
filled  with  the  crowds  that  pressed  to  hear  news  of  the 
earl's  health.  The  door  stood  open,  and  Gurth  led  in  the 
multitude  to  look  their  last  on  the  hero  of  council  and 
camp,  who  had  restored  with  strong  hand  and  wise  brain 
the  race  of  Cerdic  to  the  Saxon  throne.  Harold  stood  by 
the  bed-head  silent,  and  tears  were  shed  and  sobs  were 
heard.  And  many  a  thegn  who  had  before  half  believed 
in  the  guilt  of  Godwin  as  the  murderer  of  Alfred,  whis- 
pered in  gasps  to  his  neighbor,  — 

"  There  is  no  weregeld  for  manslaying  on  the  head  of 
him  who  smiles  so  in  death  on  his  old  comrades  in  life !  " 

Last  of  all  lingered  Leofric,  the  great  Earl  of  Mercia : 
and  when  the  rest  had  departed,  he  took  the  pale  hand, 
that  lay  heavy  on  the  coverlid,  in  his  own,  and  said,  — 

"  Old  foe,  often  stood  we  in  Witan  and  field  against 
each  other  ;  but  few  are  the  friends  for  whom  Leofric 
would  mourn  as  he  mourns  for  thee,  Peace  to  thy  soul ! 
Whatever  its  sins,  England  should  judge  thee  mildly,  for 
England  beat  in  each  pulse  of  thy  heart,  and  with  thy 
greatness  was  her  own  !  " 

Then  Harold  stole  round  the  bed,  and  put  his  arms 
round  Leofric's  neck,  and  embraced  him.  The  good  old 
earl  was  touched,  and  he  laid  his  tremulous  hands  on 
Harold's  brown  locks  and  blessed  him. 

"  Harold,"  he  said,  "  thou  succeedest  to  thy  father's 
power :  let  thy  father's  foes  be  thy  friends.  Wake  from 
thy  grief,  for  thy  country  now  demands  thee,  —  the  honor 


220  HAKOLD. 

of  thy  House,  and  tlie  memory  of  the  dead.  Many  even 
now  plot  against  thee  and  tliine.  Seek  the  king,  demand 
as  thy  right  thy  father's  earldom,  and  Leofric  will  back 
thy  claim  in  the  Witan." 

Harold  pressed  Leofric's  hand,  and,  raising  it  to  Ids 
lips,  replied,  "  Be  our  houses  at  peace  henceforth  and 
forever !  " 

Tostig's  vanity  indeed  misled  him,  when  he  dreamed 
that  any  combination  of  Godwin's  party  could  meditate 
supporting  his  claims  against  the  popular  Harold,  —  nor 
less  did  the  monks  deceive  themselves,  when  they  sup- 
posed that  with  Godwin's  death  the  power  of  his  family 
would  fall. 

There  was  more  than  even  the  unanimity  of  the  chiefs 
of  the  Witan  in  favor  of  Harold  ;  there  was  that  univer- 
sal noiseless  impression  throughout  all  England,  Danish 
and  Saxon,  that  Harold  was  now  the  sole  man  on  whom 
rested  the  state,  —  wliich,  whenever  it  so  favors  one 
individual,  is  irresistible.  Xor  was  Edward  himself  hos- 
tile to  Harold,  whom  alone  of  that  House,  as  we  have 
before  said,  he  esteemed  and  loved. 

Harold  was  at  once  named  Earl  of  Wessex  ;  and,  relin- 
quishing the  earldom  he  held  before,  he  did  not  liesi- 
tate  as  to  the  successor  to  be  recommended  in  his  place. 
Conquering  all  jealousy  and  dislike  for  Algar,  he  united 
the  strength  of  his  party  in  favor  of  the  son  of  Leofric, 
and  the  election  fell  upon  him.  "With  all  his  hot  errors, 
the  claims  of  no  other  earl,  whether  from  his  own  capaci- 
ties or  his  father's  servi(;es,  were  so  strong  ;  and  his  elec- 
tion probably  saved  the  state  from  a  great  danger,  in  the 
results  of  that  angry  mood  and  that  irritated  ambition 
with  which  he  had  thrown  himself  into  the  arms  of  Eng- 
land's most  valiant  aggressor,  Gryifyth,  king  of  I^orth 
Wales. 


HAROLD.  221 

To  outward  appearance,  by  this  election,  the  House  of 
Leofric  —  uniting  in  father  and  son  the  two  mighty  dis- 
tricts of  Mercia  and  the  East  Anglians  —  became  more 
powerful  than  that  of  Godwin  ;  for,  in  that  last  House, 
Harold  was  now  the  only  possessor  of  one  of  the  great 
earldoms,  and  Tostig  and  the  other  brothers  had  no  other 
provision  beyond  the  comparatively  insignificant  lordships 
they  held  before.  But  if  Harold  had  ruled  no  earldom  at 
all,  he  had  still  been  immeasuraljly  the  first  man  in  Eng- 
land, —  so  great  was  the  confidence  reposed  in  his  valor 
and  wisdom.  He  was  of  that  height  in  himself  that  he 
needed  no  pedestal  to  stand  on. 

The  successor  of  the  first  great  founder  of  a  House  suc- 
ceeds to  more  than  his  predecessor's  power,  if  he  but 
know  how  to  wield  ami  maintain  it;  for  who  makes  his 
way  to  greatness  witliout  raising  foes  at  every  step  ?  and 
who  ever  rose  to  power  supreme  without  grave  cause  for 
blame  1  But  Harold  stood  free  from  the  enmities  liis 
father  had  provoked,  and  pure  from  the  stains  tliat 
slander  or  repute  cast  upon  his  father's  name.  The  sun 
of  the  yesterday  had  shone  through  cloud  ;  the  sun  of 
the  day  rose  in  a  clear  firmament.  Even  Tostig  recog- 
nized the  superiority  of  his  brother  ;  and,  after  a  strong 
struggle  between  baffled  rage  and  covetous  ambition, 
yielded  to  him,  as  to  a  father.  He  felt  that  all  Godwin's 
House  was  centred  in  Harold  alone  ;  and  that  only  from 
his  brother  (despite  his  own  daring  valor,  and  despite  his 
alliance  with  the  blood  of  Charlemagne  and  Alfred,  through 
the  sister  of  Matilda,  the  Norman  duchess)  could  his 
avarice  of  power  be  gratified. 

"  Depart  to  thy  home,  my  brother,"  said  Earl  Harold 
to  Tostig,  "  and  grieve  not  that  Algar  is  preferred  to 
thee  ;  for  even  had  his  claim  been  less  urgent,  ill  would 
it  have  beseemed  us  to  arrogate  the  lordships  of  all  Eng- 


222  HAROLD. 

land  as  our  dues.  Rule  thy  lordship  with  wisdom  :  gain 
the  love  of  thy  lithsmen.  High  claims  hast  thou  in  our 
father's  name,  and  moderation  now  will  but  strengthen  thee 
in  the  season  to  come.  Trust  on  Harold  somewhat,  on  thy- 
self more.  Thou  hast  but  to  add  temper  and  judgment 
to  valor  and  zeal,  to  be  worthy  mate  of  the  first  earl  in 
England.  Over  my  father's  corpse  I  embraced  my 
father's  foe.  Between  brother  and  brother  shall  there 
not  be  love,  as  the  best  bequest  of  the  dead  1 " 

"  It  shall  not  be  my  fault,  if  there  be  not,"  answered 
Tostig  humbled,  though  chafed.  And  he  summoned  his 
men  and  returned  to  his  domains. 


HAROLD.  223 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Fair,  broad,  and  calm  set  the  sun  over  the  western  wood- 
lands ;  and  Hilda  stood  on  the  mound,  and  looked  with 
undazzled  eyes  on  the  sinking  orb.  Beside  her,  Edith 
reclined  on  the  sward,  and  seemed,  with  idle  hand,  tracing 
characters  in  the  air.  Tlie  girl  had  grown  paler  still  since 
Harold  last  parted  from  her  on  the  same  spot,  and  the  same 
listless  and  despondent  apathy  stamped  her  smileless  lips 
ami  her  bended  head. 

"  See,  child  of  my  heart,"  said  Hilda,  addressing  Edith, 
while  she  still  gazed  on  the  western  luminary,  —  "see, 
the  sun  goes  down  to  the  far  deeps,  where  Rana  and 
JEgiv  1  watch  over  the  worlds  of  the  sea  ;  but  with  morn- 
ing he  comes  from  the  halls  of  the  Asas, — the  golden 
gates  of  the  East,  —  and  joy  comes  in  his  train.  And  yet 
thou  thinkest,  sad  child,  whose  years  have  scarce  passed 
into  woman,  that  the  sun,  once  set,  never  comes  back  to 
life !  But  even  while  we  speak,  thy  morning  draws  near, 
and  the  dunness  of  cloud  takes  the  hues  of  the  rose  !  " 

Edith's  hand  paused  from  its  vague  employment,  and 
fell  droopingly  on  her  knee  ;  —  she  turned  with  an 
unquiet  and  anxious  eye  to  Hilda,  and  after  looking  some 
moments  wistfully  at    the    Vala,  the    color    rose  to    her 

^  ^gir,  the  Scandinavian  God  of  the  ocean.  Not  cue  of  the 
Aser,  or  Asas  (the  celestial  race),  but  sprung  from  the  giants. 
Ran  or  Rana,  his  wife,  a  more  malignant  character,  who  caused 
shipwrecks,  and  drew  to  herself  by  a  net  all  that  fell  into  the  sea. 
The  offspring  of  this  marriage  were  nine  daughters,  who  became 
the  Billows,  the  Currents,  and  the  Storms. 


224  HAROLD. 

cheek,  and  she  said,  in  a  voice  that  had  an  accent  half  of 
an^er.  — 

"  Hilda,  thou  art  cruel  !  " 

"  So  is  Fate  !  "  answered  the  Yala  ;  "  but  men  call  not 
Fate  cruel  when  it  smiles  on  their  desires.  Why  callest 
thou  Hilda  cruel,  when  she  reads  in  the  setting  sun  the 
runes  of  thy  coming  joy  1  " 

"  There  is  no  joy  for  me,"  returned  Edith,  plaintively  ; 
"and  I  have  that  on  my  heart,"  she  added,  with  a  sudden 
and  almost  fierce  change  of  tone,  "  which  at  last  I  will 
dare  to  speak.  I  rejiroach  thee,  Hilda,  that  thou  hast 
marred  all  my  life,  that  thou  hast  duped  me  with  dreams, 
and  left  me  alone  in  despair." 

"  Speak  on,"  said  Hilda,  calmly,  as  a  nurse  to  a  fro- 
ward  child. 

"  Hast  thou  not  told  me,  from  the  first  dawn  of  my 
wondering  reason,  that  my  life  and  lot  were  inwoven 
with  —  with  (the  word,  mad  and  daring,  must  out)  —  with 
those  of  Harold  the  peerless  ?  But  for  that,  which  my 
infancy  took  from  thy  lips  as  a  law,  I  had  never  been  so 
vain  and  so  frantic  !  I  had  never  watched  each  play  of  his 
face,  and  treasured  each  word  from  his  lips  ;  I  had  never 
made  my  life  l)ut  a  part  of  his  life,  —  all  my  soul  but  the 
shadow  of  his  sun.  But  for  that,  I  had  hailed  the  calm 
of  the  cloister,  —  but  for  that  I  had  glided  in  peace  to 
my  grave.  And  now  —  7iow,  0  Hilda  —  "  Edith  paused, 
and  that  break  had  more  eloquence  than  any  words  she 
could  command.  "  And,"  she  resumed  quickly,  "  thou 
knowest  that  these  hopes  were  but  dreams  ;  that  the  law 
ever  stood  between  him  and  me,  —  and  that  it  was  guilt 
to  love  him." 

"  I  knew  the  law,"  answered  Hilda,  "  but  the  law  of 
fools  is  to  the  wise  as  the  cobweb  swung  over  the  brake 
to  the  wing  of  the  bird.    Ye  are  sibbe  to  each  other,  some 


HAROLD.  225 

five  times  removed,  and  tlierefore  an  old  man  at  Eome 
saith  tliat  ye  ouglit  not  to  wed.  When  the  shaveh'ngs 
obey  the  old  man  at  Rome,  and  put  aside  their  own  wives 
and  frillas,^  and  abstain  from  the  wine-cui),  and  the  chase, 
and  the  brawl,  I  will  stoop  to  hear  of  their  laws,  —  with 
disrelish  it  may  be,  but  witliont  scorn. ^  It  is  no  sin  to 
love  Harold  ;  and  no  moidv  and  no  law  shall  prevent  your 
luiion  on  the  day  appointed  to  bring  ye  together,  form 
and  heart." 

"  Hilda !  Hilda  !  madden  me  not  with  joy,"  cried 
Edith,  starting  up  in  rapturous  emotion,  her  young  face 
dyed  with  blushes,  and  all  her  renovated  beauty  so  celes- 
tial that  Hilda  herself  was  almost  awed,  as  if  by  the 
vision  of  Freya,  the  northern  Venus,  charmed  by  a  spell 
from  tlie  halls  of  Asgard. 

"  But  that  day  is  distant,"  renewed  the  Vala, 

"  What  matters  !  what  matters  !"  cried  the  pure  child 
of  Mature  ;  "  I  ask  but  hope.  Enough,  —  oh  !  enough, 
if  we  were  but  wedded  on  the  borders  of  the  grave  !  " 

"  Lo,  then,"  said  Hilda,  "behold,  the  sun  of  thy  life 
dawns  again  !  " 

As  she  spoke,  the  Vala  stretched  her  arm,  and  through 
the  intersticed  columns  of  the  fane  Edith  saw  the  large 
shadow  of  a  man  cast  over  the  still  sward.  Presently 
into  the  space  of  the  circle  came  Harold,  her  beloved. 
His  face  was  pale  with   grief  yet   recent ;   but,   perhaps, 

1  Frilla,  the  Danish  word  for  a  lady  who,  often  with  the  wife's 
consent,  was  added  to  the  domestic  circle  by  the  husband  The 
word  is  here  used  by  Hilda  in  a  2:eneral  sense  of  reproach.  Both 
niarriajre  and  concubinage  were  common  ainongst  the  Anjrlo-Saxon 
priesthood,  despite  the  unheeded  canons;  and  so,  indeed,  they  were 
with  the  French  clercry. 

■-  Hilda,  not  only  as  a  heathen,  but  as  a  Dane,  would  be  no 
favorer  of  monks.  They  were  unknown  in  Denmark  at  that  time, 
and  the  Danes  held  them  in  odium.  —  "  Ord.  Vital."  lib.  vii. 

VOL.  I.  —  15 


226  HAROLD. 

more  than  ever,  dignity  was  in  his  step  and  command  on 
his  brow,  for  he  felt  that  now  alone  with  him  rested  the 
might  of  Saxon  England.  And  what  royal  robe  so  invests 
with  imperial  majesty  the  form  of  man  as  the  grave  sense 
of  power  responsible,  in  an  earnest  soul  ? 

"  Thou  comest,"  said  Hilda,  "  in  the  hour  I  predicted, 
—  at  the  setting  of  the  sun  and  the  rising  of  the  star." 

"  Vala,"  said  Harold,  gloomily,  "  I  will  not  oppose  my 
sense  to  thy  prophecies  ;  for  who  shall  judge  of  that 
power  of  which  he  knows  not  the  elements  1  or  despise 
the  marvel  of  which  he  cannot  detect  the  imposture  ] 
But  leave  me,  I  pray  thee,  to  walk  in  the  broad  light  of 
the  common  day.  These  hands  are  made  to  grapple  with 
things  palpable,  and  these  eyes  to  measure  the  forms  that 
front  my  way.  In  my  youth,  1  turned  in  despair  or 
disgust  from  the  subtleties  of  the  schoolmen,  which  split 
upon  hairs  the  brains  of  Lombard  and  Frank  ;  in  my 
busy  and  stirring  manhood,  entangle  me  not  in  the  meshes 
which  confuse  all  my  reason,  and  sicken  my  waking 
thoughts  into  dreams  of  awe.  Mine  be  the  straight  path 
and  the  plain  goal  !  " 

The  Vala  gazed  on  him  with  an  earnest  look,  that  par- 
took of  admiration,  and  yet  more  of  gloom  ;  but  she  spoke 
not,  and  Harold  resumed,  — 

"  Let  the  dead  rest,  Hilda, — proud  names  with  glory 
on  earth,  and  shadows  escaped  from  our  ken,  submissive 
to  mercy  in  heaven.  A  vast  chasm  have  my  steps  over- 
leaped since  we  met,  0  Hilda,  —  sweet  Edith  :  a  vast 
chasm,  but  a  narrow  grave."  His  voice  faltered  a 
moment,  and  again  he  renewed,  "Thou  weepest,  Edith; 
ah,  how  thy  tears  console  me  !  Hilda,  hear  me !  I  love 
thy  grandchild,  —  loved  her  by  irresistible  instinct 
since  her  blue  eyes  first  smiled  on  mine.  I  loved  her  in 
her  childhood  as  in  her  youth,  —  in  the  blossom  as  in  the 


HAKOLD.  227 

flower ;  and  thy  grandchild  loves  me.  The  laws  of  the 
Church  proscribe  our  marriage,  and  therefore  we  parted  ; 
but  I  feel,  and  thine  Edith  feels,  that  the  love  remains  as 
strong  in  absence  :  no  other  will  be  her  wedded  lord,  no 
other  my  wedded  wife.  Therefore,  with  a  heart  made 
soft  by  sorrow,  and,  in  my  father's  death,  sole  lord  of  my 
fate,  I  return,  and  say  to  thee  in  her  presence,  'Suffer 
us  to  hope  still  ! '  The  day  may  come,  when,  under 
some  king  less  enthralled  than  Edward  by  formal  Church 
laws,  we  may  obtain  from  the  Pope  absolution  for  our 
nuptials,  —  a  day,  perhaps,  far  off ;  but  we  are  both 
young,  and  love  is  strong  and  jiatient  :  we  can  wait." 
"  0  Harold,"  exclaimed  Edith,  "  we  can  wait !  " 
"  Have  I  not  told  thee,  son  of  Godwin,"  said  the  Vala, 
solemnly,  "  that  Edith's  skein  of  life  was  envvoven  with 
thine  ?  Dost  thou  deem  that  my  charms  have  not 
explored  the  destiny  of  the  last  of  my  race  1  Know  that 
it  is  in  the  decrees  of  the  fates  that  ye  are  to  be  united, 
never  more  to  be  divided.  Know  that  there  shall  come  a 
day,  though  I  can  see  not  its  morrow,  and  it  lies  dim  and 
afar,  which  shall  be  the  most  glorious  of  thy  life,  and  on 
which  Edith  and  fame  shall  be  thine,  —  the  day  of  thy 
nativity,  on  which  hitherto  all  things  have  prospered  with 
thee.  In  vain  against  the  stars  preach  the  mone  and  the 
priest :  what  shall  be,  shall  be.  Wherefore,  take  hope 
and  joy,  0  Children  of  Time  !  And  now,  as  I  join  your 
hands,  I  betroth  your  souls." 

Rapture  unalloyed  and  unprophetic,  born  of  love  deep 
and  pure,  shone  in  the  eyes  of  Harold  as  he  clasped  the 
hand  of  his  promised  bride.  But  an  involuntary  and 
mysterious  shudder  passed  over  Edith's  frame,  and  she 
leaned  close,  close,  for  support  upon  Harold's  breast. 
And,  as  if  by  a  vision,  there  rose  distinct  in  her  memor}-  a 
stern  brow,  a  form  of  power  and  terror,  ■ —  the  brow  and 


228  HAROLD. 

the  form  of  liim  who  but  once  again  in  her  waking  life 
the  Prophetess  had  told  her  she  should  behold.  The 
vision  passed  away  in  the  warm  clasp  of  those  protecting 
arms ;  and,  looking  up  into  Harold's  face,  she  there 
beheld  the  mighty  and  deep  delight  that  transfused  itself 
at  once  into  her  own  soul. 

Then  Hilda,  placing  one  hand  over  their  heads,  and 
raising  the  other  towards  heaven,  all  radiant  with  burst- 
ing stars,  said,  in  her  deep  and  thrilling  tones,  — 

"  Attest  the  betrothal  of  these  young  hearts,  0  ye 
Powers  that  draw  nature  to  nature  by  spells  which  no 
galdra  can  trace,  and  have  wrought  in  the  secrets  of  crea- 
tion no  mystery  so  perfect  as  love.  Attest  it,  thou  temple, 
thou  altar  !  —  attest  it,  0  sun  and  0  air  !  While  the 
forms  are  divided,  may  the  souls  cling  together,  —  sorrow 
with  sorrow,  and  joy  with  joy.  And  when,  at  length, 
bride  and  bridegroom  are  one,  —  0  stars,  may  the  trouble 
with  which  ye  are  charged  have  exhausted  its  burden ; 
may  no  danger  molest,  and  no  malice  disturb,  but  over 
the  marriage-bed  shine  in  peace,  0  ye  stars  ! " 

Up  rose  the  moon.  May's  nightingale  called  its  mate 
from  the  breathless  boughs ;  and  so  Edith  and  Harold 
were  betrothed  by  the  grave  of  the  son  of  Cerdic.  And 
from  the  line  of  Cerdic  had  come,  since  Ethelbert,  all 
the  Saxon  kings  who  with  sword  and  with  sceptre  had 
reigned  over  Saxon  England. 


BOOK    VL 


AMBITION. 


CHAPTER   I. 

Thkrb  was  great  rejoicing  in  England.  King  Edward 
had  been  induced  to  send  Aired  the  prelate  ^  to  the 
court  of  the  German  Emperor,  for  his  kinsman  and  name- 
sake, Edward  Atheling,  the  son  of  the  great  Ironsides. 
In  his  childhood,  this  prince,  with  his  brother  Edmund, 
had  been  committed  by  Canute  to  the  charge  of  his 
vassal,  the  King  of  Sweden  ;  and  it  has  been  said  (though 
without  sufficient  authority)  that  Canute's  design  was 
that  they  should  be  secretly  made  away  with.  The  King 
of  Sweden,  however,  forwarded  the  children  to  the  court 
of  Hungary  ;  they  were  there  honorably  reared  and  re- 
ceived. Edmund  died  young  without  issue.  Edward 
married  a  daughter  of  the  German  Emperor,  and  during 
the  commotions  in  England,  and  the  successive  reigns  of 
Harold  Harefoot,  Hardicanute,  and  the  Confessor,  had 
remained  forgotten  in  his  exile,  until  now  suddenly  re- 
called to  England  as  the  heir-presumptive  of  his  childless 
namesake.  He  arrived  with  Agatha  his  wife,  one  infant 
son,  Edgar,  and  two  daughters,  Margaret  and  Christina. 

1  "  Chron.  Knyghton." 


230  HAEOLD. 

Great  were  the  rejoicings.  The  vast  crowd  that  liad 
followed  the  royal  visitors  in  their  procession  to  the  old 
London  palace  (not  far  from  St.  Paul's),  in  which  they 
were  lodged,  yet  swarmed  through  the  streets,  when  two 
thegns  who  had  personally  accompanied  the  Atheling 
from  Dover,  and  had  just  taken  leave  of  him,  now 
emerged  from  the  palace,  and  with  some  difficulty  made 
their  way  through  the  crowded  streets. 

The  one  in  the  dress  and  short  hair  imitated  from  the 
Norman  was  our  old  friend,  Godrith,  whom  the  reader 
may  remember  as  the  rebuker  of  Taillefer,  and  the  friend 
of  Mallet  de  Graville  ;  the  other,  in  a  plain,  linen  Saxon 
tunic,  and  the  gonna  worn  on  state  occasions,  to  which 
he  seemed  unfamiliar,  but  with  heavy  gold  bracelets  on 
his  arms,  long-haired  and  bearded,  was  Vebba,  the  Ken- 
tish thegn,  who  had  served  as  nuncius  from  Godwin  to 
Edward. 

"  Troth  and  faith  ! "  said  Vebba,  wiping  his  brow, 
"  this  crowd  is  enow  to  make  plain  man  stark  wode.  I 
would  not  live  in  London  for  all  the  gauds  in  the  gold- 
smiths' shops,  or  all  the  treasures  in  King  Edward's 
vaults.  My  tongue  is  as  parched  as  a  hay-field  in  the 
weyd-month.-^  Holy  Mother  be  blessed  !  I  see  a 
cumen-hiis  ^  open ;  let  us  in  and  refresh  ourselves  with  a 
horn  of  ale." 

"Nay,  friend,"  quoth  Godrith,  with  a  slight  disdain  ; 
"  such  are  not  the  resorts  of  men  of  our  rank.  Tarry 
yet  awhile,  till  we  arrive  near  the  bridge  by  the  river- 
side ;  there,  indeed,  you  will  find  worthy  company  and 
dainty   cheer." 

"  Well,  well,  I  am  at  your  hest,  Godrith,"  said  the 
Kent  man,  sighing  :   "  my  wife  and  my  sons  will  be  sure 

1  Weyd-month  —  Meadow  month,  June. 

2  Cu men-h us  —  Tavern, 


HAROLD.  231 

to  ask  me  what  sights  I  have  seen,  and  I  may  as  well 
know  from  thee  the  last  tricks  and  ways  of  this  hurly- 
burly  town." 

Godrith,  who  was  master  of  all  the  fashions  in  tlie 
reign  of  our  lord  King  Edward,  smiled  graciously,  and 
the  two  proceeded  in  silence,  only  broken  by  the  sturdy 
Kent  man's  exclamations ;  now  of  anger  when  rudely 
jostled,  now  of  wonder  and  delight  when,  amidst  the 
tlirong,  he  caught  sight  of  a  gleeman,  with  his  bear  or 
monkey,  who  took  advantage  of  some  space  near  convent 
garden  or  Roman  ruin  to  exliibit  his  craft  :  till  they 
gained  a  long  low  row  of  booths,  most  pleasantly  situated 
to  the  left  of  this  side  London  Bridge,  and  which  was  ap- 
propriated to  the  celebrated  cookshops,  that  even  to  the 
time  of  Fitzstephen  retained  their  fame  and  their  fashion. 

Between  the  shops  and  the  river  was  a  space  of  grass 
worn  brown  and  bare  by  tlie  feet  of  the  customers,  with 
a  few  clipped  trees  with  vines  trained  from  one  to  the 
other  in  arcades,  under  cover  of  which  were  set  tables 
and  settles.  The  place  was  thickly  crowded,  and  but  for 
Godrith's  pO])ularity  amongst  the  attendants,  they  might 
have  found  it  difficult  to  obtain  accommodation.  How- 
ever, a  new  table  was  soon  brought  forth,  placed  close  by 
the  cool  margin  of  the  water,  and  covered  in  a  trice  with 
tankards  of  hippocras,  pigment,  ale,  and  some  Gascon  as 
well  as  British  wines  ;  varieties  of  the  delicious  cake-bread 
for  which  England  was  then  renowned  ;  wliile  viands, 
strange  to  the  honest  eye  and  taste  of  the  wealthy  Kent 
man,  were  served  on  spits. 

"  What  bird  is  this  ?  "  said  he,  grumbling. 

"  Oh,  enviable  man,  it  is  a  Phrygian  attagen  i  that 
thou  art  about  to  taste  for  the  first  time  ;  and  when  thou 
hast  recovered  that  delight,  I  commend  to  thee  a  Moorish 

1  Fitzstephea. 


232  IIAEOLD. 

compound,  made  of  eggs  and  roes  of  carp  from  the  old 
Southweorc  stewponds,  which  the  cooks  here  dress 
notably." 

"  Moorish  !  —  Iloly  Virgin  !  "  cried  Yebba,  with  his 
mouth  full  of  the  Phrygian  attagen,  "  how  came  any- 
thing Moorish  in  our  Christian  island  1 " 

Godrith  laughed  outright. 

"  Why,  our  cook  here  is  Moorish  ;  the  best  singers  in 
Loudon  are  Moors.  Look  yonder !  see  those  grave  comely 
Saracens  ?  " 

"  Comely,  quotha, — ■  burnt  and  black  as  a  charred  pine- 
pole  !  "  grunted  Vebba  ;  "  well,  who  are  tliey  1 " 

"  Wealthy  traders  ;  thanks  to  whom,  our  pretty  maids 
have  risen  higli  in  the  market."  ^ 

"  More  the  shame,"  said  the  Kent  man  ;  "  that  selling 
of  English  youth  to  foreign  masters,  whether  male  or 
female,  is  a  blot  on  the  Saxon  name." 

"  So  saith  Harold  our  Earl,  and  so  preach  the  monks," 
returned  Godrith.  "  But  thou,  my  good  friend,  who  art 
fond  of  all  things  that  our  ancestors  did,  and  hast  sneered 
more  than  once  at  my  ±^orman  robe  and  cropped  Imir, 
thou  shouldst  not  be  the  one  to  find  fault  with  what  our 
fathers  have  done  since  the  days  of  Cerdic." 

"  Hem,"  said  the  Kent  man,  a  little  perplexed  ;  "  cer- 
tainly old  manners  are  the  best,  and  I  suppose  there  is 
some  good  reason  for  this  practice,  A\diich  I,  who  never 
trouble  myself  about  matters  that  concern  me  not,  do  not 
see. 

"  AVell,  Vebba,  and  how  likest  thou  the  Atheling  1  he 
is  of  the  old  line,"  said  Godrith. 

Again  the  Kent  man  looked  perplexed,  and  had  recourse 

^  William  of  Maltnesbury  speaks  with  just  indignation  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon  custom  of  selling  female  servants,  either  to  public 
prostitution  or  foreign  slavery. 


HAROLD.  233 

to  the  ale,  •which  he  preferred  to  all  more  delicate  liquor, 
before  he  replied,  — 

"Why,  he  speaks  Euglisli  worse  than  King  Edward! 
and  as  for  his  boy  Edgar,  the  child  can  scarce  speak  Eng- 
lish at  all.  And  then  their  German  carles  and  cnehts  !  — 
An  I  had  known  what  manner  of  folk  they  were,  I  had 
not  spent  my  mancuses  in  running  from  my  homestead  to 
give  them  the  welcome.  But  they  told  me  that  Harold 
the  good  earl  had  made  the  king  send  for  them ;  and 
whatever  the  earl  counselled,  must,  I  thought,  be  wise, 
and  to  the  weal  of  sweet  England." 

"That  is  true,"  said  Godrith,  with  earnest  emphasis; 
for,  with  all  his  affectation  of  Norman  manners,  he  was 
thoroughly  Englisli  at  heart,  and  was  now  aniong  the 
stanchest  snppoitei's  of  Harold,  who  had  become  no  less 
the  pattern  and  pride  of  the  young  nobles  than  the  darling 
of  the  humbler  population,  —  "  that  is  true  ;  and  Harold 
showed  us  his  iioble  I^nglish  heart  when  he  so  urged  the 
king  to  liis  own  loss." 

As  Godrith  thus  spoke, — nay,  from  the  first  mention 
of  Harold's  name,  —  two  men,  richly  clad,  but  with  tlieir 
bonnets  drawn  far  over  their  brows,  and  their  long  gonnas 
so  worn  as  to  hide  their  forms,  who  were  seated  at  a  table 
behind  Godrith,  and  had  thus  escaped  his  attention,  had 
paused  from  their  wine-cups,  and  they  now  listened  with 
much  earnestness  to  the  conversation  that  followed. 

"  How  to  the  earl's  loss?"  asked  Vebba. 

"  Why,  simple  thegn,"  answered  Godrith,  "  why,  sup- 
pose that  Edward  had  refused  to  acknowledge  the  Atheling 
as  his  heir, — suppose  the  Atheling  had  remained  in  the 
German  court,  and  our  good  king  died  suddenly,  —  wdio, 
thinkest  thou,  could  succeed  to  the  English  tlirone?" 

"  Marry,  I  have  never  thought  of  that  at  all,"  said  the 
Kent  man,  scratching  his  head. 


234  HAROLD. 

"No,  nor  have  the  English  generally  ;  yet  whom  could 
we  choose  but  Harold  ? " 

A  sudden  start  from  one  of  the  listeners  was  checked 
by  the  warning  finger  of  the  other  3  and  the  Kent  man 
exclaimed,  — 

"  Body  o'  me  !  But  we  have  never  chosen  king  (save 
the  Danes)  out  of  the  line  of  Cerdic.  These  be  new 
cranks,  with  a  vengeance  :  we  shall  be  choosing  German, 
or  Saracen,  or  Norman  next." 

"  Out  of  the  line  of  Cerdic  !  but  that  line  is  gone,  root 
and  branch,  save  the  Atheling,  and  lie,  thou  seest,  is  mure 
German  than  English.  Again  I  say,  failing  the  Atheling, 
whom  could  we  choose  but  Harold,  brother-indaw  to  the 
king ;  descended  through  Githa  from  the  royalties  of  the 
iSTorse,  the  head  of  all  armies  under  the  Herr-ban, 
the  chief  who  has  never  fought  without  victory,  yet  who 
lias  always  preferred  conciliation  to  conquest,  —  the  first 
counsellor  in  the  Witan,  the  first  man  in  the  realm  :  who 
but  Harold  1     Answer  me,  staring  Vebba." 

"  I  take  in  thy  words  slowly,"  said  the  Kent  man, 
shaking  his  head,  "  and,  after  all,  it  matters  little  wdro  is 
king,  so  he  be  a  good  one.  Yes,  I  see  now  that  the  earl 
was  a  just  and  generous  man  when  he  made  the  king 
send  for  the  Atheling.  Drink  heel !  long  life  to  them 
both  !  " 

"  Wasdisel,"  answered  Godrith,  draining  his  hippocras 
to  Vebba's  more  potent  ale.  "  Long  life  to  them  both  ! 
may  Edward  the  Atheling  reign,  but  Harold  the  Earl 
rule  !  Ah,  then,  indeed,  we  may  sleep  without  fear  of 
fierce  Algar  and  still  fiercer  Gryffyth  the  Walloon,  —  who 
now,  it  is  true,  are  stilled  for  the  moment,  thanks  to 
Harold ;  but  not  more  still  than  the  smooth  waters  in 
Gwyned,  that  lie  just  above  the  rush  of  a  torrent." 

"  So  little  news  hear  I,"  said  Vebba,  "  and  in  Kent  so 


HAROLD.  235 

little  are  we  plagued  with  the  troubles  elsewhere  (for 
there  Harold  governs  us,  and  the  hawks  come  not  where 
the  eagles  hold  eyrie  ! ),  that  I  will  thank  thee  to  tell  me 
something  aboiit  our  old  earl  for  a  year/  Algar  the  rest- 
less, and  this  Gryffyth  the  Welsh  king,  so  that  1  may  seem 
a  wise  man  when  I  go  back  to  my  homestead." 

"  Why,  thou  knowest  at  least  that  Algar  and  Harold 
were  ever  opposed  in  the  Witan,  and  hot  words  thou  hast 
heard  pass  between  them  1 " 

"  Marry,  yes  !  But  Algar  was  as  little  match  for  Earl 
Harold  in  speech  as  in  sword-play." 

Now  again  one  of  the  listeners  started  (but  it  was  not 
the  same  as  tlie  one  before),  and  muttered  an  angry 
exclamation. 

"  Yet  is  he  a  troublesome  foe,"  said  Godrith,  who  did 
not  hear  the  sound  Vebba  had  provoked,  "  and  a  thorn 
in  the  side  both  of  the  earl  and  of  England  ;  and  sorrow- 
ful for  both  England  and  earl  was  it,  that  Harold  refused 
to  marry  Aldyth,  as  it  is  said  his  father,  wise  Godwin, 
counselled  and  wished." 

"  Ah  !  but  I  have  heard  scops  and  harpers  sing  pretty 
songs  that  Harold  loves  Edith  the  Fair,  a  wondrous 
proper  maiden,  they  say  !  " 

"  It  is  true ;  and  for  the  sake  of  his  love,  he  played  ill 
for  his  ambition." 

"  I  like  him  the  better  for  that,"  said  the  honest  Kent 
man :  "  why  does  he  not  marry  the  girl  at  once  1  she  hath 
broad  lands,  I  know,  for  they  run  from  the  Sussex  shore 
into  Kent." 

"  But  they  are  cousins  five  times  removed,  and  the 
Church  forbids  the  marriage ;  nevertheless,  Harold  lives 

1  It  will  be  remembered  that  Algar  governed  Wessex,  which 
principality  included  Kent,  during  the  year  of  Godwin's  outlawry. 


236  HAROLD. 

only  for  Editli  :  they  have  exchanged  the  true-lofa,^  and 
it  is  whispered  tliat  Harold  hopes  the  Atheling,  when  he 
comes  to  be  king,  will  get  him  the  Pope's  dispensation. 
But  to  return  to  Algar  ;  in  a  day  most  unlucky  he  gave 
his  daughter  to  Grytfyth,  the  most  turbulent  sub-king  the 
land  ever  kneAv,  who,  it  is  said,  will  not  be  content  till 
he  has  won  all  Wales  for  himself,  without  homage  or 
service,  and  the  iMarches  to  boot.  8ome  letters  between 
him  and  Earl  Algar,  to  whom  Harold  had  secured  the 
earldom  of  the  East  Angles,  were  discovered,  and  in  a 
Witan  at  Winchester  thou  wilt  doubtless  have  heard  (for 
thou  didst  not,  I  know,  leave  thy  lands  to  attend  it)  that 
Algar  ^  was  outlawed." 

"  Oh,  yes,  these  are  stale  tidings  ;  I  heard  thus  much 
from  a  palmer,  —  and  then  Algar  got  ships  from  the 
Irish,  sailed  to  ^^orth  Wales,  and  beat  Rolf,  the  Norman 

1  Trtilofa  from  which  comes  our  popular  corruption  ' '  true 
lover's  knot,"  a  veteri  Dan'icotvaloi^, —  that  is,  Jidem  do,  to  pledge 
faith.—  Hickes'  "  Thesaur. " 

"  A  knot,  among  the  ancient  northern  nations,  seems  to  hnve 
been  the  emblem  of  love,  faith,  and  frendship."  —  Brande's  "  Pop. 
Antiq." 

-  The  "  Saxon  Chronicle  "  contradicts  itself  as  to  Algar's  out- 
lawry, stating  in  one  passage  tliat  he  was  outlawed  without  any 
kind  of  guilt,  and  in  another  that  he  was  outlawed  as  mvike,  or 
traitor,  and  that  he  made  a  confession  of  it  Ijefore  all  tlie  men  there 
gatliered.  His  treason,  however,  seems  naturally  occasioned  by  his 
close  connection  witli  Gryffytli,  and  proved  by  his  share  in  t'nat 
king's  rebellion.  Some  of  our  historians  have  unfairly  assumed 
that  his  outlawry  was  at  Harold's  instigation.  Of  this  there  is  not 
only  no  proof,  but  one  of  the  best  authorities  among  tlie  chroniclers 
says  just  the  contrary,  —  tliat  Harold  did  all  lie  could  to  intercede 
for  him;  and  it  is  certain  that  he  was  fairly  tried  and  condemned 
by  the  Witan,  and  afterwards  restored  by  the  concurrent  articles 
of  agreement  between  Harold  and  Leofric.  Harold's  policy  with 
his  own  countrymen  stands  out  very  markedly  prominent  in  the 
annals  of  the  time  ;  it  was  invariably  tliat  of  conciliation. 


HAROLD.  237 

earl,  at  Hereforil.  Oh,  yes,  I  heard  that,  and,"  added 
the  Kent  man,  laughing,  "  I  was  not  sorry  to  hear  that 
my  old  Earl  Algar,  since  he  is  a  good  and  true  Saxon, 
beat  the  cowardly  Norman,  — more  shame  to  the  king  for 
giving  a  iSlorman  the  ward  of  the  Marches  !  " 

"  It  was  a  sore  defeat  to  the  king  and  to  England," 
said  Godrith,  gravely,  "  The  great  Minster  of  Hereford, 
built  by  King  Athelstan,  was  burned  and  sacked  by  the 
Welsh  ;  and  the  Crown  itself  was  in  danger,  when  Harold 
came  up  at  the  head  of  the  Fyrd,  Hard  is  it  to  tell  the 
distress,  and  the  marching,  and  the  camping,  and  the 
travail,  and  destruction  of  men,  and  also  of  horses,  which 
the  English  endured  '  till  Harold  came  ;  and  then  luckily 
came  also  the  good  old  Leofric,  and  Bishop  Aired  the 
peacemaker,  and  so  strife  was  patched  up,  —  Gryffyth 
swore  oaths  of  faith  to  King  Edward,  and  Algar  was 
inlawed  ;  and  there  for  the  nonce  rests  the  matter  now. 
But  well  I  ween  that  Gryffyth  will  never  keep  troth  with 
the  English,  and  that  no  hand  less  strong  than  Harold's 
can  keep  in  check  a  spirit  as  fiery  as  Algar's :  therefore 
did  I  wish  that  Harold  might  be  king." 

"  Well,"  quotli  the  honest  Kent  man,  "  I  hope,  never- 
theless, that  Algar  will  sow  his  wild  oats,  and  leave  the 
"Walloons  to  grow  the  hemp  for  their  own  halters  ;  for, 
though  he  is  not  of  the  height  of  our  Harold,  he  is  a  true 
Saxon,  and  we  liked  him  well  enow  when  he  ruled  us. 
And  how  is  our  earl's  brother,  Tostig,  esteemed  by  the 
Northmen  ?  It  must  be  hard  to  please  those  who  had 
Siward  of  the  strong  arm  for  their  earl  before," 

"  Why,  at  first,  when  (at  Siward's  death   in  the  wars 
for  young  Malcolm)  Harold  secured  to  Tostig  the  North- 
umbrian earldom,  Tostig  went  by  his  brother's   counsel, 
and  ruled  well  and  won  favor.      Of  late  I  hear  that  the 
^  "  Sax.  Chron.,"  verliatim. 


238  HAEOLD. 

Xortlimen  murmur.     Tostig  is  a  man  indeed   dour  and 
haughty." 

After  a  few  more  questions  and  answers  on  the  news 
of  the  day,  Vebba  rose  and  said,  — 

"  Thanks  for  thy  good  fellowship  ;  it  is  time  for  me 
now  to  be  jogging  homeward.  I  left  my  ceorls  and 
horses  on  the  other  side  the  river,  and  must  go  after 
them.  And  now  forgive  me  my  bluntness,  fellow-thegn  ; 
but  ye  young  courtiers  have  plenty  of  need  for  your  man- 
cuses,  and  when  a  plain  countryman  like  me  comes  sight- 
seeing, he  ought  to  stand  payment ;  wherefore  "  —  here 
he  took  from  his  belt  a  great  leathern  purse  —  "  where- 
fore, as  these  outlandish  birds  and  heathenish  puddings 
must  be  dear  fare  —  " 

"  How  !  "  said  Godrith,  reddening,  "  thinkest  thou  so 
meanly  of  us  thegns  of  Middlesex  as  to  deem  we  cannot 
entertain  thus  humbly  a  friend  from  a  distance  ?  Ye 
Kent  men,  I  know,  are  rich.  But  keep  your  pennies  to 
buy  stufls  for  your  wife,  ray  friend." 

The  Kent  man,  seeing  he  had  displeased  his  companion, 
did  not  press  his  liberal  offer,  —  put  up  his  purse,  and 
suffered  Godrith  to  pay  the  reckoning.  Then,  as  the  two 
thegns  shook  hands,  he  said,  — 

"  But  I  should  like  to  have  said  a  kind  word  or  so  to 
Earl  Harold,  —  for  he  was  too  busy  and  too  great  for  me 
to  come  across  him  in  the  old  palace  yonder.  1  have  a 
mind  to  go  back  and  look  for  him  at  his  own  house." 

"  You  will  not  find  him  there,"  said  Godrith,  "  for  I 
know  that  as  soon  as  he  hath  finished  his  conference  with 
the  Atheling,  he  will  leave  the  city  ;  and  I  shall  be  at 
his  own  favorite  manse  over  the  water  at  sunset,  to  take 
orders  for  repairing  the  forts  and  dykes  on  the  Marches. 
You  can  tarry  awhile  and  meet  us ;  you  know  his  old 
lodge  in  the  forest  land  1 " 


HAROLD.  239 

"  Nay  I  must  be  back  and  at  home  ere  night,  for  all 
things  go  wrong  when  the  master  is  away.  Yet,  indeed, 
my  good  wife  will  scold  me  for  not  having  shaken  hands 
with  the  handsome  earl." 

"  Thou  shalt  not  come  under  that  sad  infliction,"  said 
the  good-natured  Godrith,  who  was  pleased  with  the 
thegn's  devotion  to  Harold,  and  who,  knowing  the  great 
weight  which  Vebba  (homely  as  he  seemed)  carried  in 
his  important  county,  was  politically  anxious  that  the 
earl  should  humor  so  sturdy  a  friend, —  "thou  shalt  not 
sour  thy  wife's  kiss,  man.  For  look  you,  as  you  ride 
back  you  will  pass  by  a  large  old  house,  with  broken 
columns  at  the  back." 

"  I  have  marked  it  well,"  said  the  thegn ;  "  when  I 
have  gone  that  way,  with  a  heap  of  queer  stones  on  a 
little  hillock,  which  they  say  the  witches  or  the  Britons 
heaped  together." 

"  The  same.  When  Harold  leaves  London,  I  trow 
■well  towards  that  house  will  his  road  wend  ;  for  there 
lives  Edith  the  swan's  neck,  with  her  awful  grandam,  the 
Wicca.  If  thou  art  tliere  a  little  after  noon,  depend  on 
it  thou  wilt  see  Harold  riding  that  way." 

"Thank  thee  heartily,  friend  Godrith,"  said  Vebba, 
taking  his  leave,  "  and  forgive  my  bluntness  if  I  lauglied 
at  thy  cropped  head,  for  1  see  thou  art  as  good  a  Saxon 
as  ere  a  franklin  of  Kent,  —  and  so  the  saints  keep 
thee." 

Vebba  then  strode  briskly  over  the  bridge  ;  and  God- 
rith, animated  by  the  wine  he  had  drunk,  turned  gayly 
on  his  heel  to  look  amongst  the  crowded  tables  for  some 
chance  friend  with  whom  to  while  away  an  hour  or  so  at 
the  games  of  hazard  then  in  vogue. 

Scarce  had  he  turned,  when  the  two  listeners,  who, 
having  paid  their  reckoning,  liad  moved  under  shade  of 


240  HAROLD. 

one  of  the  arcades,  dropped  into  a  boat,  which  they  had 
summoned  to  tlie  margin  by  a  noiseless  signal,  and  were 
rowed  over  the  water.  They  preserved  a  silence  which 
seemed  thoughtful  and  gloomy  until  they  reached  the 
opposite  shore :  then  one  of  them,  pushing  back  his 
bonnet,  showed  the  sharp  and  haughty  features  of  Algar, 

"Well,  friend  of  Gryffyth,"  said  he,  with  a  bitter  ac- 
cent, "  thou  hearest  that  Earl  Harold  counts  so  little  on 
the  oaths  of  thy  king  that  he  intends  to  fortify  the 
Marches  against  him  ;  and  thou  hearest  also,  that  nought 
save  a  life,  as  fragile  as  the  reed  which  thy  feet  are 
trampling,  stands  between  the  throne  of  England  and 
the  only  Englishman  who  could  ever  liave  humbled  my 
sou-in-Iaw  to  swear  oath  of  service  to  Edward." 

"  Shame  upon  that  hour,"  said  the  other,  whose  speech, 
as  well  as  the  gold  collar  round  his  neck  and  the  peculiar 
fashion  of  his  hair,  betokened  him  to  be  Welsh.  "  Little 
did  1  think  that  the  great  son  of  Llewellyn,  whom  our 
bards  had  set  above  Roderic  Mawr,  would  ever  have 
acknowledged  the  sovereigntv  of  the  Saxon  over  the  hills 
of  Cymry. " 

"  Tut,  Meredydd,"  answered  Algar,  "  thou  knowest 
well  that  no  Cymrian  ever  deems  himself  dishonored 
by  breaking  faith  witli  the  Saxon  ;  and  we  sliall  yet 
see  the  lions  of  Gryffyth  scaring  the  sheepfolds  of  Here- 
foril" 

"  So  be  it,"  snid  Meredydd,  fiercel3^  "  And  Harold 
shall  give  to  his  Atheling  the  Saxon  land,  shorn  at  least 
of  the  Cymrian  kingdom." 

"  Meredydd,"  said  Algar,  with  a  seriousness  that  seemed 
almost  solemn,  "  no  Atheling  will  live  to  rule  these 
realms  !  Thou  knowest  that  I  was  one  of  the  first  to 
hail  the  news  of  his  coming,  —  I  hastened  to  Dover  to 
meet  him.     Methought  I  saw  death  writ  on  his  counte- 


HAROLD.  241 

nance,  and  I  bribed  the  German  leech  who  attends  him 
to  answer  my  questions ;  the  Athehng  knows  it  not,  but 
he  bears  within  him  the  seeds  of  a  mortal  complaint. 
Thou  wettest  well  what  cause  I  have  to  hate  Earl  Har- 
old ;  and  were  I  the  only  man  to  oppose  his  way  to  the 
throne,  he  should  not  ascend  it  but  over  my  corpse.  But 
when  Godrith  his  creature  spoke,  I  felt  that  he  spoke 
the  truth  ;  and,  the  Atheling  dead,  on  no  head  but 
Harold's  can  fall  the  crown  of  Edward." 

''  Ha  !  "  said  the  Cymrian  chief,  gloomily  ;  "  thinkest 
thou  so  indeed  ?  " 

*'  I  think  it  not ;  I  know  it.  And  for  that  reason, 
Meredydd,  we  must  wait  not  till  he  wields  against  us  all 
the  royalty  of  England.  As  yet,  while  Edward  lives 
there  is  hope.  For  the  king  loves  to  spend  wealth  on 
relics  and  priests,  and  is  slow  when  the  mancuses  are 
■wanted  for  fighting  men.  The  king,  too,  poor  man  !  is 
not  so  ill  pleased  at  my  outbursts  as  he  would  fain  have  it 
thought !  he  thinks,  by  pitting  earl  against  earl,  that  he 
himself  is  the  stronger.^  While  Edward  lives,  therefore, 
Harold's  arm  is  half-crippled ;  wherefore,  Meredydd,  ride 
thou  with  good  speed  back  to  King  Gryffyth,  and  tell  him 
all  I  have  told  thee.  Tell  him  that  our  time  to  strike 
the  blow  and  renew  the  war  will  be  amidst  the  dismay 
and  confusion  that  the  Atheling's  death  will  occasion. 
Tell  him,  that  if  we  can  entangle  Harold  himself  in  the 
Welsh  defiles,  it  will  go  hard  but  what  we  shall  find  some 
arrow  or  dagger  to  pierce  the  heart  of  the  invader.  And 
were  Harold  but  slain,  —  who  then  would  be  king  in 
England?  The  line  of  Cerdic  gone,  the  House  of  Godwin 
lost  in  Earl  Harold  (for  Tostig  is  hated  in  his  own  domain, 
Leofwine  is  too  light,  and  Gurth  is  too  saintly  for  such 
ambition),  —  who  then,  I  say,  can  be  king  in  England 

^  Hume. 

VOL.  I.  — 16 


242  HAROLD. 

but  Algar,  the  heir  of  the  great  Leofric  ?  And  I,  as  king 
of  England,  will  set  all  Cymry  free,  and  restore  to  the 
realm  of  Gryffyth  the  shires  of  Hereford  and  Worcester. 
Kide  fast,  0  Meredydd,  and  heed  well  all  I  have  said." 

"  Dost  thou  promise  and  swear  that,  wert  thou  king  of 
England,  Cymry  should  Vje  free  from  all  service  1 " 

"  Free  as  air,  —  free  as  under  Arthur  and  Uther  :  I 
swear  it.  And  remember  well  how  Harold  addressed  the 
Cymrian  chiefs,  when  he  accepted  Gryftyth's  oaths  of 
service." 

"  Remember  it,  —  ay,"  cried  Meredydd,  his  face  light- 
ing up  with  intense  ire  and  revenge  ;  "  the  stern  Saxon 
said,  '  Heed  well,  ye  chiefs  of  Cymry,  and  thou,  Gryfiyth 
the  king,  that  if  again  ye  force,  by  ravage  and  rapine,  by 
sacrilege  and  murder,  the  majesty  of  England  to  enter 
your  borders,  duty  must  be  done  :  God  grant  that  your 
Cymrian  lion  may  leave  us  in  peace,  —  if  not,  it  is  mercy 
to  human  life  that  bids  us  cut  the  talons  and  draw  the 
fangs.'  " 

"  Harold,  like  all  calm  and  mild  men,  ever  says  less 
than  he  means,"  returned  Algar ;  "  and  were  Harold  king, 
small  pretext  would  he  need  for  cutting  the  talons  and 
drawing  the  fangs." 

"It  is  well,"  said  Meredydd,  with  a  fierce  smile.  "I 
will  now  go  to  my  men  who  are  lodged  yonder ;  and  it  is 
better  that  thou  should.st  not  be  seen  with  me." 

"  Right ;  so  St.  David  be  with  you,  —  and  forget  not  a 
word  of  my  message  to  Gryffyth  my  son-indaw." 

"Not  a  word,"  returned  Meredydd,  as  with  a  wave  of 
his  hand  he  moved  towards  an  hostlery,  to  which,  as 
kept  by  one  of  their  own  countrymen,  the  Welsh  habitu- 
ally resorted  in  the  visits  to  the  capital  which  the  various 
intrigues  and  dissensions  in  their  unhappy  land  made 
frec[uent. 


HAROLD.  243 

The  chiefs  train,  which  consisted  of  ten  men,  all  of 
high  birth,  were  not  drinking  in  the  tavern,  —  for  sorry 
customers  to  mine  host  were  the  abstemious  Welsh. 
Stretched  on  the  grass  under  the  trees  of  an  orchard  that 
backed  the  hostlery,  and  utterly  indifferent  to  all  the 
rejoicings  that  animated  the  population  of  Southwark  and 
London,  they  were  listening  to  a  wild  song  of  the  old 
hero-days  from  one  of  their  number  ;  and  round  them 
grazed  the  rough,  shagged  ponies  which  they  had  used 
for  their  journey.  Meredydd,  approaching,  gazed  round, 
and,  seeing  no  stranger  was  present,  raised  his  hand  to 
hush  the  song,  and  then  addressed  his  countrymen  briefly 
in  "Welsh,  —  briefly,  but  with  a  passion  that  was  evident 
in  his  flashing  eyes  and  vehement  gestures.  The  passion 
was  contagious  ;  they  all  sprang  to  their  feet  with  a  low 
but  fierce  cry,  and  in  a  few  moments  they  had  caught  and 
saddled  their  diminutive  palfreys,  while  one  of  the  band, 
who  seemed  singled  out  by  Meredydd,  sallied  forth  alone 
from  the  orchard,  and  took  his  way  on  foot  to  the  bridge. 
He  did  not  tarrj^  there  long  ;  at  the  sight  of  a  single 
horseman,  whom  a  shout  of  welcome,  on  that  swarming 
thoroughfare,  proclaimed  to  be  Earl  Harold,  the  Welsh- 
man turned,  and  with  a  fleet  foot  regained  his  com- 
panions. 

Meanwhile  Harold  smilingly  returned  the  greetings  he 
received,  cleared  the  bridge,  passed  the  suburbs,  and  soon 
gained  the  wild  forest-land  that  lay  along  the  great  Kent- 
ish road.  He  rode  somewhat  slowly,  for  he  was  evidently 
in  deep  thought ;  and  he  had  arrived  about  half-way 
towards  Hilda's  house,  when  he  heard  behind  quick,  pat- 
tering sounds,  as  of  small  unshod  hoofs  :  he  turned,  and 
saw  the  Welshmen  at  the  distance  of  some  fifty  yards. 
But  at  that  moment  there  passed  along  the  road  in  front 
several  persons  bustling  into  London  to  share  in  the  fes- 


244  HAEOLD. 

tivities  of  the  day.  This  seemed  to  disconcert  the  Welsh 
in  the  rear ;  and,  after  a  few  whispered  words,  they  left 
the  high-road  and  entered  the  forest-land.  Various 
groups  from  time  to  time  continued  to  pass  along  the 
thoroughfare.  But  still,  ever  through  tlie  glades,  Harold 
caught  glimpses  of  the  riders,  —  now  distant,  now  near. 
Sometimes  he  heard  the  snort  of  their  small  horses,  and 
saw  a  fierce  eye  glaring  through  the  bushes ;  then,  as  at 
the  sight  or  sound  of  approaching  passengers,  the  riders 
wheeled,  and  shot  off  through  the  brakes. 

The  earl's  suspicions  were  aroused  ;  for  (though  he 
knew  of  no  enemy  to  apprehend,  and  the  extreme  severity 
of  the  laws  against  robbers  made  the  high-roads  much 
safer  in  the  latter  days  of  the  Saxon  domination  than  they 
were  for  centuries  under  that  of  the  subsequent  dynasty, 
when  Saxon  thegns  themselves  had  turned  kings  of  the 
greenwood)  the  various  insurrections  in  Edward's  reign 
had  necessarily  thrown  upon  society  many  turbulent, 
disbanded  mercenaries. 

Harold  was  unarmed,  save  the  spear  which,  even  on 
occasions  of  state,  the  Saxon  noble  rarely  laid  aside,  and 
the  ateghar  in  his  belt  ;  and,  seeing  now  that  the  road 
had  become  deserted,  he  set  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  was 
just  in  sight  of  the  Druid  Temple  when  a  javelin  whizzed 
close  by  his  breast  and  another  transfixed  his  horse,  which 
fell  head-foremost  to  the  ground. 

The  earl  gained  his  feet  in  an  instant,  and  that  haste 
was  needed  to  save  his  life  ;  for  while  he  rose  ten  swords 
flashed  around  him.  The  Welshmen  had  sprung  from 
their  palfreys  as  Harold's  horse  fell.  Fortunately  for 
him,  only  two  of  the  party  bore  javelins  (a  wenpon  which 
the  Welsh  wielded  with  deadly  skill),  and,  those  already 
wasted,  they  drew  their  short  swords,  which  were  prob- 
ably  imitated  from    the  Romans,  and  rushed  upon  him 


HAROLD.  245 

in  simultaneous  onset.  Versed  in  all  the  weapons  of  the 
time,  with  his  right  hand  seeking  by  his  spear  to  keep 
off  the  rush,  with  the  ateghar  in  his  left  parrying  the 
strokes  aimed  at  him,  the  brave  earl  transfixed  the  first 
assailant,  and  sore  wounded  the  next ;  but  his  tunic  was 
dyed  red  with  three  gashes,  and  his  sole  chance  of  life 
was  in  the  power  yet  left  him  to  force  his  way  through 
the  ring.  Dropping  his  spear,  shifting  his  ateghar  into 
the  right  hand,  wrapping  round  his  left  arm  his  gonna  as 
a  shield,  he  sprang  fiercely  on  the  onslaught,  and  on  the 
flashing  swords.  Pierced  to  the  heart  fell  one  of  his  foes  5 
dashed  to  the  earth  another ;  from  the  hand  of  a  third 
(dropping  his  own  ateghar)  he  wrenched  the  sword. 
Loud  rose  Harold's  cry  for  aid,  and  swiftly  he  strode 
towards  tlie  hillock,  turning  back,  and  striking  as  he 
turned  ;  and  again  fell  a  foe,  and  again  new  blood  oozed 
through  his  own  garb.  At  that  moment  his  cry  was 
echoed  bj^  a  shriek  so  sharp  and  so  piercing  that  it 
startled  the  assailants,  it  arrested  the  assault ;  and  ere 
the  unequal  strife  could  be  resumed,  a  woman  was  in  the 
midst  of  the  fray;  —  a  woman  stood  dauntless  between 
the  earl  and  his  foes. 

"  Back  !  Edith.  Oh,  God  !  Back,  back  ! "  cried  the 
earl,  recovering  all  his  strength  in  the  sole  fear  which 
that  strife  had  yet  stricken  into  his  bold  heart ;  and,  draw- 
ing Edith  aside  with  his  strong  arm,  he  again  confronted 
the  assailants. 

"  Die  ! "  cried,  in  the  Cyrarian  tongue,  the  fiercest  of 
the  foes,  whose  sword  had  already  twice  drawn  the  earl's 
blood,  —  "  die,  that  Cymry  may  be  free  ! " 

Meredydd  sprang,  with  him  sprang  the  survivors  of 
his  band  ;  and  by  a  sudden  movement  Edith  had  thrown 
herself  on  Harold's  breast,  leaving  his  right  arm  free,  but 
sheltering  his  form  with  her  own. 


246  HAEOLD. 

At  that  sight  every  sword  rested  still  in  air.  These 
Cymrians,  hesitating  not  at  the  murder  of  the  man  whose 
death  seemed  to  their  false  virtue  a  sacrifice  due  to  their 
hopes  of  freedom,  were  still  the  descendants  of  Heroes, 
and  the  cliildren  of  noble  Song,  and  their  swords  were 
harmless  against  a  woman.  The  same  pause  which  saved 
the  life  of  Harold,  saved  that  of  Meredydd,  for  the 
Cymrian's  lifted  sword  had  left  his  breast  defenceless, 
and  Harold,  despite  his  Avrath,  and  his  fears  for  Edith, 
touched  by  that  sudden  forbearance,  forbore  himself  the 
blow. 

"  Why  seek  ye  my  life  ? "  said  he.  "  Whom  in  broad 
England  hath  Harold  wronged  1 " 

That  speech  broke  the  charm,  revived  the  suspense  of 
vengeance.  With  a  sudden  aim,  Meredydd  smote  at  the 
head  which  Edith's  embrace  left  unprotected.  The  sword 
shivered  on  the  steel  of  that  which  parried  the  stroke, 
and  the  next  moment,  pierced  to  the  heart,  Meredydd 
fell  to  the  earth,  bathed  in  his  gore.  Even  as  he  fell,  aid 
was  at  hand.  The  ceorls  in  the  Roman  house  had  caught 
the  alarm,  and  were  hurrying  down  the  knoll,  with  arms 
snatched  in  haste,  while  a  loud  whoop  broke  from  the 
forest-land  hard  by  :  and  a  troop  of  horse,  headed  by 
Vebba,  rushed  through  the  bushes  and  brakes.  Those  of 
the  Welsh  still  surviving,  no  longer  animated  by  their 
fiery  chief,  turned  on  the  instant,  and  fled  with  that  won- 
derful speed  of  foot  which  characterized  tlieir  active  race  ; 
calling,  as  they  fled.,  to  their  Welsh  pigmy  steeds,  which, 
snorting  loud  and  lashing  out,  came  at  once  to  the  call. 
Seizing  the  nearest  at  hand,  the  fugitives  sprang  to  selle, 
while  the  animals  unchosen  paused  by  the  corpses  of  their 
former  riders,  neighing  piteously,  and  shaking  their  long 
manes.  And  then,  after  wheeling  round  and  round  the 
coming    horsemen,  with    many  a   plunge    and    lash    and 


HAROLD.  247 

savage  cry,  they  darted  after  their  companions,  and  dis- 
appeared amongst  the  bushwood.  Some  of  the  Kentish 
men  gave  chase  to  the  fugitives,  but  in  vain ;  for  the 
nature  of  the  ground  favored  flight.  Vebba  and  the  rest, 
now  joined  by  Hilda's  lithsmen,  gained  the  spot  where 
Harold,  bleeding  fast,  yet  strove  to  keep  his  footing,  and, 
forgetful  of  his  own  wounds,  was  joyfully  assuring  him- 
self of  Edith's  safety.  Vebba  dismounted,  and,  recogniz- 
ing the  earl,  exclaimed  :  — 

"  Saints  in  heaven  !  are  we  in  time  1  You  bleed,  you 
faint !  —  Speak,  Lord  Harold.     How  fares  it  1 " 

"  Blood  enow  yet  left  here  for  our  merrie  England  ! " 
said  Harold,  with  a  smile.  But  as  he  spoke,  his  head 
drooped,  and  he  was  borne  senseless  into  the  house  of 
Hilda. 


248  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER  11. 

The  Vala  met  them  at  the  threshold,  and  testified  so 
little  surprise  at  the  sight  of  the  bleeding  and  uncon- 
scious earl,  that  Vebba,  who  had  heard  strange  tales  of 
Hilda's  unlawful  arts,  half  suspected  that  those  wild-look- 
ing foes,  with  their  uncannj'^,  diminutive  horses,  were 
imps  conjured  by  her  to  punish  a  wooer  to  her  grand- 
child, —  who  had  been  perhaps  too  successful  in  the 
wooing.  And  fears  so  reasonable  were  not  a  little 
increased  when  Hilda,  after  leading  the  way  up  the  steep 
ladder  to  the  chamber  in  which  Harold  had  dreamed  his 
fearful  dream,  bade  tliem  all  depart,  and  leave  the 
wounded  man  to  her  care. 

"Not  so,"  said  Yebba,  bluffly.  "A  life  Hke  this  is 
not  to  be  left  in  the  hands  of  woman,  or  wicca.  I  shall 
go  back  to  the  great  town,  and  summon  the  earl's  own 
leech.  And  I  beg  thee  to  heed,  meanwhile,  that  every 
head  in  this  house  shall  answer  for  Harold's." 

The  great  Vala,  and  high-born  Hleafdian,  little  accus- 
tomed to  be  accosted  thus,  turned  round  abruptly,  with  so 
stern  an  eye  and  so  imperious  a  mien,  that  even  the  stout 
Kent  man  felt  abashed.  She  pointed  to  the  door  opening 
on  the  ladder,  and  said  briefly  :  — 

"  Depart !  Thy  lord's  life  hath  been  saved  already, 
and  by  woman.     Depart  !  " 

"  Depart,  and  fear  not  for  the  earl,  brave  and  true 
friend  in  need,"  said  Editli,  looking  up  from  Harold's 
pale  lips,  over  which  she  bent ;  and  her  sweet  voice  so 


HAROLD.  249 

touched  the  good  thegn,  that,  murmuring  a  blessing  on 
her  fair  face,  he  turned  and  departed. 

Hilda  then  proceeded  with  a  light  and  skilful  hand  to 
examine  the  wounds  of  her  patient.  She  opened  the 
tunic,  and  washed  away  the  blood  from  four  gaping  ori- 
fices on  the  breast  and  shoulders,  And  as  she  did  so, 
Edith  uttered  a  faint  cry,  and,  falling  on  her  knees,  bowed 
her  head  over  the  drooping  hand,  and  kissed  it  with  sti- 
fling emotions,  of  which  perhaps  grateful  joy  was  the 
strongest ;  for  over  the  heart  of  Harold  was  punctured, 
after  the  fashion  of  the  Saxons,  a  device,  —  and  that 
device  was  the  knot  of  lietrothal,  and  in  the  centre  of  the 
knot  was  graven  the  word  "  Edith." 


250  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Whether  owing  to  Hilda's  runes,  or  to  the  merely 
human  arts  which  accompanied  them,  the  earl's  recovery 
was  rapid,  though  the  great  loss  of  blood  he  had  sustained 
left  him  awhile  weak  and  exhausted.  But  perhaps  he 
blessed  the  excuse  which  detained  him  still  in  the  house 
of  Hilda,  and  under  the  eyes  of  Edith. 

He  dismissed  the  leech  sent  to  him  by  Vebba,  and  con- 
fided, not  without  reason,  to  the  Vala's  skill.  And  how 
happily  went  his  hours  beneath  the  old  Eoman  roof! 

It  was  not  without  a  superstition,  more  characterized, 
however,  by  tenderness  than  awe,  that  Harold  learned 
that  Edith  had  been  undefinably  impressed  with  a  fore- 
l)oding  of  danger  to  her  betrothed,  and  all  that  morning 
she  had  watched  his  coming  from  the  old  legendary  hill. 
Was  it  not  in  that  watch  that  his  good  Fylgia  had  saved 
his  life? 

Indeed,  there  seemed  a  strange  truth  in  Hilda's  asser- 
tions that,  in  the  form  of  his  betrothed,  his  tutelary  spirit 
lived  and  guarded.  For  smooth  every  step,  and  bright 
every  day,  in  his  career,  since  their  troth  had  been 
pliglited.  And  gradually  the  sweet  superstition  had 
mingled  with  human  passion  to  hallow  and  refine  it. 
There  was  a  purity  and  a  depth  in  the  love  of  these  two, 
which,  if  not  uncommon  in  women,  is  most  rare  in  men. 

Harold,  in  sober  truth,  had  learned  to  look  on  Edith  as 
on  his  better  angel ;  and,  calming  his  strong,  manly  heart 
in  the  hour  of  temptation,  would  have  recoiled,  as  a  sacri- 


HAROLD.  251 

lege,  from  aught  that  could  have  sullied  that  image  of 
celestial  love.  With  a  noble  and  sublime  patience,  of 
which  perhaps  only  a  character  so  thoroughly  English  in 
its  habits  of  self-control  and  steadfast  endurance  could 
have  been  capable,  he  saw  the  months  and.  the  years  glide 
away,  and  still  contented  himself  with  hope,  —  hope,  the 
sole,  godlike  joy  that  belongs  to  men  ! 

As  the  opinion  of  an  age  influences  even  those  who 
affect  to  despise  it,  so  perhaps,  this  holy  and  unselfish 
passion  was  preserved  and  guarded  by  that  peculiar  vene- 
ration for  purity  which  formed  the  characteristic  fanati- 
cism of  the  last  days  of  the  Anglo-Saxons,  —  when  still, 
as  Aldhelm  had  previously  sung  in  Latin  less  barbarous 
than  perhaps  any  priest  in  the  reign  of  Edward  could 
command,  — 

"  Virginitas  castam  servans  sine  crimine  carnem 
Csetera  virtutem  vincit  prseconia  laudi  — 
Spiritus  altithroni  templum  sibi  vindicat  almus  ;  "  ^ 

when,  amidst  a  great  dissoluteness  of  manners,  alike 
common  to  Church  and  laity,  the  opposite  virtues  were, 
as  is  invariable  in  such  epochs  of  society,  carried  by  the 
few  purer  natures  into  heroic  extremes.  "  And  as  gold, 
the  adorner  of  the  world,  springs  from  the  sordid  bosom 
of  earth ;  so  chastity,  the  image  of  gold,  rose  bright  and 
unsullied  from  the  clay  of  human  desire."  ^ 

And  Edith,  though  yet  in  the  tenderest  flush  of  beau- 

1  "  The  chaste  who  blameless  keep  unsullied  fame, 
Transcend  all  other  worth,  all  other  praise. 
The  Spirit,  high  enthroned,  has  made  their  hearts 
His  sacred  temple  " 

Sharon  Turner's  "  Translation  of  Aldhelm,"  vol.  iii.  p.  366.     It  ia 
curious  to  see  how,  even  in  Latin,  the  poet  preserves  the  alliUra- 
tions  that  characterized  the  Saxon  muse. 
2    Slightly  altered  from  Aldhelm. 


252  HAROLD. 

tiful  youth,  had,  under  the  influence  of  that  sanctifying 
and  scarce  earthly  aflfection,  perfected  her  full  nature  as 
woman.  She  had  learned  so  to  live  in  Harold's  life,  that 
—  less,  it  seemed,  by  study  than  intuition  — a  knowledge 
graver  than  that  which  belonged  to  her  sex  and  her  time, 
seemed  to  fall  upon  her  soul  :  fall  as  the  sunlight  falls  on 
the  blossoms,  expanding  their  petals,  and  brightening  the 
glory  of  their  hues. 

Hitherto,  living  under  the  shade  of  Hilda's  dreary 
creed,  Edith,  as  we  have  seen,  had  been  rather  Christian 
by  name  and  instinct  than  acqviainted  with  the  doctrines 
of  the  Gospel,  or  penetrated  by  its  faith.  But  the  soul 
of  Harold  lifted  her  own  out  of  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow 
lip  to  the  Heavenly  Hill.  For  the  character  of  their  love 
was  so  pre-eminently  Christian,  so,  by  the  circumstances 
that  surrounded  it  - —  so  by  hope  and  self-denial  elevated 
out  of  the  empire,  not  only  of  the  senses,  but  even  of  tliat 
sentiment  which  springs  from  them,  and  which  made  the 
sole  refined  and  poetic  element  of  the  heathen's  love,  that 
but  for  Christianity  it  would  have  withered  and  died.  It 
required  all  the  aliment  of  prayer  ;  it  needed  that  patient 
endurance  which  comes  from  the  soul's  consciousness  of 
immortality  ;  it  could  not  have  resisted  earth,  but  from 
the  forts  and  armies  it  Avon  from  heaven.  Thus  from 
Harold  might  Edith  be  said  to  have  taken  her  very  soul. 
And  with  the  soul,  and  through  the  soul,  woke  the  mind 
from  the  mists  of  childhood. 

In  the  intense  desire  to  be  Avorthy  the  love  of  the  fore- 
most man  of  her  land,  —  to  be  the  companion  of  his  mind, 
as  well  as  the  mistress  of  his  heart,  —  she  had  acquired, 
she  knew  not  how,  strange  stores  of  thought  and  intelli- 
gence, and  pure,  gentle  Avisdom.  In  opening  to  her  confi- 
dence his  OAvn  high  aims  and  projects,  he  himself  Avas 
scarcely  conscious  how  often  he  confided  but  to  consult, 


HAROLD.  253 

—  how  often  and  how  insensibly  she  colored  his  reflec- 
tions and  shaped  his  designs.  Whatever  was  highest  and 
purest,  that,  Edith  ever,  as  by  instinct,  beheld  as  the 
wisest.  She  grew  to  him  like  a  second  conscience,  diviner 
than  his  own.  Each,  therefore,  reflected  virtue  on  the 
other,  as  planet  illumines  planet. 

All  these  years  of  probation,  then,  which  might  have 
soured  a  love  less  holy,  changed  into  weariness  a  love  less 
intense,  had  only  served  to  wed  them  more  intimately 
soul  to  soul ;  and  in  that  spotless  union  what  happiness 
there  was !  what  rapture  in  word  and  glance,  and  the 
slight,  restrained  caress  of  innocence,  beyond  all  the 
transports  love  only  human  can  bestow  ! 


254  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER  IV.      • 

It  was  a  bright  still  summer  noon,  when  Harold  sat  with 
Edith  amidst  the  columns  of  the  Druid  temple,  and  in 
the  shade  which  those  vast  and  mournful  relics  of  a  faith 
departed  cast  along  the  sward.  And  there,  conversing 
over  the  past,  and  planning  the  future,  they  had  sat  long, 
when  Hilda  approached  from  the  house,  and,  entering 
the  circle,  leaned  her  arm  upon  the  altar  of  the  war-god, 
and  gazing  on  Harold  with  a  calm  triumph  in  her  aspect, 
said,  — 

"Did  I  not  smile,  son  of  Godwin,  when,  with  thy 
shortsighted  wisdom,  thou  didst  think  to  guard  thy  land 
and  secure  thy  love,  by  urging  the  monk-king  to  send 
over  the  seas  for  the  Atheling?  Did  I  not  tell  thee, 
'  Thou  dost  right,  for  in  obeying  thy  judgment  thou  art 
but  the  instrument  of  fate  ;  and  the  coming  of  the  Athe- 
ling shall  speed  thee  nearer  to  the  ends  of  thy  life,  but 
not  from  the  Atheling  shalt  thou  take  the  crown  of  thy 
love,  and  not  by  the  Atheling  shall  the  throne  of  Athelstan 
be  filled '1" 

"  Alas  !  "  said  Harold,  rising  in  agitation,  "  let  me  not 
hear  of  mischance  to  that  noble  prince.  He  seemed  sick 
and  feeble  when  I  parted  from  him  ;  but  joy  is  a  great 
restorer,  and  the  air  of  the  native  land  gives  quick  health 
to  the  exile." 

"Hark  !"  said  Hilda,  "you  hear  the  passing  bell  for 
the  soul  of  the  son  of  Ironsides  !  " 

The  mournful  knell,  as  she  spoke,  came  dull  from  the 
roofs  of  the  city  afar,  borne  to  their  ears  by  the  exceeding 


HAROLD.  255 

stillness  of  the  atmosphere.  Edith  crossed  herself,  and 
murmured  a  prayer  according  to  the  custom  of  the  age  ; 
then  raising  her  eyes  to  Harold,  she  murmured,  as  she 
clasped  her  hands, — 

"Be  not  saddened,  Harold  ;  hope  still." 

"  Hope  ! "  repeated  Hilda,  rising  proudly  from  her  re- 
cumbent position, —  "  hope  !  in  that  knell  from  St.  Paul's, 
dull  indeed  is  thine  ear,  0  Harold,  if  thou  hearest  not 
the  joy-bells  that  inaugurate  a  future  king  !  " 

The  earl  started  :  his  eyes  shot  fire  ;  his  breast  heaved. 

"  Leave  us,  Edith,"  said  Hilda,  in  a  low  voice  ;  and  after 

watching  her  grandchild's  slow,  reluctant  steps  descend 

the  knoll,  she  turned  to  Harold,  and  leading  him  towards 

the  gravestone  of  the  Saxon  chief,  said,  — 

*■  Rememberest  thou  the  spectre  that  rose  from  this 
mound  1  —  rememberest  thou  the  dream  that  followed 
it?" 

"  The  spectre,  or  deceit  of  mine  eye,  I  remember  well," 
answered  the  earl ;  "  the  dream,  not, —  or  only  in  confused 
and  jarring  fragments." 

"  I  told  thee  then  that  I  could  not  unriddle  the  dream 
by  the  light  of  the  moment ;  and  that  the  dead  who  slept 
below  never  appeared  to  men,  save  for  some  portent  of 
doom  to  the  house  of  Cerdic.  The  portent  is  fulfilled  ; 
the  Heir  of  Cerdic  is  no  more.  To  whom  appeared  the 
great  Scin-lasca,  but  to  him  who  shall  lead  a  new  race  of 
kings  to  the  Saxon  throne  ! " 

Harold  breathed  hard,  and  the  color  mounted  bright 
and  glowing  to  his  cheek  and  brow. 

"  I  cannot  gainsay  thee,  Vala.  Unless,  despite  all  con- 
jecture, Edward  should  be  spared  to  earth  till  the  Athe- 
ling's  infant  son  acquires  the  age  when  bearded  men  will 
acknowledge  a  chief,^  I  look  round  in  England  for  the 

1  It  is  impossible  to  form  any  just  view  of  the  state  of  parties 
and  the  position  of  Harold  in  the  latter  portions  of  this  work,  im- 


256  HAROLD. 

coming   king,  and   all    England   reflects   but   mine  own 


image. 


His  head  rose  erect  as  he  spoke,  and  already  the 
brow  seemed  august,  as  if  circled  by  the  diadem  of  the 
Basileus. 

"  And  if  it  be  so,"  he  added,  "  I  accept  that  solemn 
trust,  and  England  shall  grow  greater  in  my  greatness." 

"  The  flame  breaks  at  last  from  the  smouldering  fuel," 
cried  the  Vala,  "  and  the  hour  I  so  long  foretold  to  thee 
hath  come  ! " 

Harold  answered  not,  for  high  and  kindling  emotions 
deafened  him  to  all  but  the  voice  of  a  grand  ambition, 
and  the  awakening  joy  of  a  noble  heart. 

"  And  then  —  and  then,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  shall  need 
no  mediator  between  nature  and  monkcraft ;  —  then,0 
Edith,  the  life  thou  hast  saved  will  indeed  be  thine  !  " 
He  paused,  and  it  was  a  sign  of  the  change  that  an  ambi- 
tion, long  repressed,  but  now  rushing  into  the  vent 
legitimately  open  to  it,  had  already  begun  to  work  in  the 
character  hitherto  so  self-reliant,  when  he  said  in  a  low 
voice,  "  But  that  dream  which  hath  so  long  lain  locked, 
not  lost,  in  my  mind,  —  that  dream  of  which  I  recall 
only  vague  remembrances  of  danger  yet  defiance,  trouble 

less  the  reader  will  bear  constantly  in  mind  the  fact  that,  from  the 
earliest  period,  minors  were  set  aside  as  a  matter  of  course  by  the 
Saxon  customs.  Henry  observes  that,  in  the  whole  history  of 
the  Heptarchy,  there  is  but  one  example  of  a  minority,  and  that  a 
short  and  unfortunate  one ;  so,  in  the  later  times,  the  great  Alfred 
takes  the  throne,  to  the  exclusion  of  the  infant  son  of  his  elder 
brother.  Only  under  very  peculiar  circumstances,  backed,  as  in 
the  case  of  Edmund  Ironsides,  by  precocious  talents  and  manhood 
on  the  part  of  the  minor,  were  there  exceptions  to  the  general 
laws  of  succession.  The  same  rule  obtained  with  the  earldoms ; 
the  fame,  power,  and  popularity  of  Siward  could  not  transmit  his 
Northumbrian  earldom  to  his  infant  son  Waltheof,  so  gloomily 
renowned  in  a  subsequent  reign. 


HAROLD,  257 

yet  triumph,  —  canst  thou  unriddle  it,  0  Vala,  into  augu- 
ries of  success  1 " 

"  Harold,"  answered  Hilda,  "  thou  didst  hear,  at  the 
close  of  tliy  dream,  the  music  of  the  hymns  that  are 
chanted  at  the  crowning  of  a  king,  —  and  a  crowned  king 
shalt  thou  be  ;  yet  fearful  foes  shall  assail  thee,  —  fore- 
shown in  the  shapes  of  the  lion  and  raven  that  came  in 
menace  over  the  blood-red  sea.  The  two  stars  in  the 
heaven  betoken  that  the  day  of  thy  birth  was  also  the 
birthday  of  a  foe,  whose  star  is  fatal  to  thine ;  and  they 
vi'arn  thee  against  a  battle-field,  fought  on  the  day  when 
those  stars  shall  meet.  Farther  than  this  the  mystery  of 
thy  dream  escapes  from  my  lore ;  —  wouldst  thou  learn 
thyself,  from  the  phantom  that  sent  the  dream  1  —  stand 
by  my  side  at  the  grave  of  the  Saxon  hero,  and  I  will 
summon  the  Scin-laeca  to  counsel  the  living.  For  what 
to  the  Vala  the  dead  may  deny,  the  soul  of  the  brave  on 
the  brave  may  bestow  !  " 

Harold  listened  with  a  serious  and  musing  attention, 
which  his  pride  or  his  reai5on  had  never  before  accorded 
to  the  warnings  of  Hilda.  But  his  sense  was  not  yet  fas- 
cinated by  the  voice  of  the  charmer,  and  he  answered 
with  his  wonted  smile,  so  sweet,  yet  so  haughty,  — - 

"  A  hand  outstretched  to  a  crown  should  be  armed  for 
the  foe  ;  and  the  eye  that  would  guard  the  living  should 
not  be  dimmed  by  the  vapors  that  encircle  the  dead." 


VOL.  I.  — 17 


258  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER  V. 

But  from  that  date  changes,  slight,  yet  noticeable  and 
important,  were  at  work  both  in  the  conduct  and  charac- 
ter of  the  great  earl. 

Hitherto  he  had  advanced  on  his  career  without  calcu- 
lation ;  and  nature,  not  policy,  had  achieved  his  power. 
But  henceforth  he  began  thoughtfully  to  cement  the 
foundations  of  his  house,  to  extend  the  area,  to  strengthen 
the  props.  Policy  now  mingled  with  the  justice  that  had 
made  him  esteemed,  and  the  generosity  that  had  won  him 
love.  Before,  though  by  temper  conciliatory,  yet,  through 
honesty,  indifferent  to  the  enmities  he  provoked,  in  his 
adherence  to  what  his  conscience  approved,  he  now  laid 
himself  out  to  propitiate  all  ancient  feuds,  soothe  all 
jealousies,  and  convert  foes  into  friends.  He  opened 
constant  and  friendly  communication  with  his  uncle 
Sweyn,  King  of  Denmark  ;  he  availed  himself  sedvdously 
of  all  the  influence  over  the  Anglo-Danes  which  his 
mother's  birth  made  so  facile.  He  strove,  also,  and 
wisely,  to  conciliate  the  animosities  which  the  Church 
had  cherished  against  Godwin's  House  ;  he  concealed  his 
disdain  of  the  monks  and  monk-ridden  ;  he  showed  him- 
self the  Church's  patron  and  friend  ;  he  endowed  largely 
the  convents,  and  especially  one  at  Walthara,  which  had 
fallen  into  decay,  though  favorably  known  for  the  piety 
of  its  brotherhood.  But  if  in  this  he  played  a  part  not 
natural  to  his  opinions,  Harold  could  not,  even  in  simula- 
tion, administer   to  evil.     The    monasteries   he   favored 


HAROLD.  259 

were  those  distinguished  for  purity  of  life,  for  benevo- 
lence to  the  poor,  for  bold  denunciation  of  the  excesses 
of  the  great.  He  had  not,  like  the  Norman,  the  grand 
design  of  creating  in  the  priesthood  a  college  of  learning, 
a  school  of  arts  ;  such  notions  were  unfamiliar  in  homely, 
unlettered  England.  And  Harold,  though  for  his  time 
and  his  land  no  mean  scholar,  would  have  recoiled  from 
favoring  a  learning  always  made  subservient  to  Rome ; 
always  at  once  haughty  and  scheming,  and  aspiring  to 
complete  domination  over  both  the  souls  of  men  and  tlie 
thrones  of  kings.  But  his  aim  was,  out  of  the  elements 
he  found  in  the  natural  kindliness  existing  between  Saxon 
priest  and  Saxon  flock,  to  rear  a  modest,  virtuous,  homely 
clergy,  not  above  tender  sympathy  with  an  ignorant  popu- 
lation. He  selected  as  examples  for  his  monastery  at 
Waltham,  two  low-born,  humble  brothers,  Osgood  and 
Ailred  ;  the  one  known  for  the  courage  with  which  he 
had  gone  through  the  land,  preaching  to  abbot  and  thegn 
the  emancipation  of  the  theowes,  as  the  most  meritorious 
act  the  safety  of  the  soul  could  impose  ;  the  other,  who, 
originally  a  clerk,  had,  according  to  the  common  custom 
of  the  Saxon  clergy,  contracted  the  bonds  of  marriage, 
and  with  some  eloquence  had  vindicated  that  custom 
against  the  canons  of  Rome,  and  refused  the  offer  of 
large  endowments  and  thegn's  rank  to  put  away  his  wife. 
But  on  the  death  of  that  spouse  he  had  adopted  the  cowl, 
and,  while  still  persisting  in  the  lawfulness  of  marriage 
to  the  unmonastic  clerks,  had  become  famous  for  denounc- 
ing the  open  concubinage  which  desecrated  the  holy 
office  and  violated  the  solemn  vows  of  many  a  proud 
prelate  and  abbot. 

To  these  two  men  (both  of  whom  refused  the  abbacy 
of  Waltham)  Harold  committed  the  charge  of  selecting 
the  new  brotherhood  established  there.     And  the  monks 


260  HAROLD. 

of  Waltham  were  honored  as  saints  throughout  the 
neiglihoring  district,  and  cited  as  examples  to  all  the 
Cliurch. 

But  though  in  themselves  the  new  politic  arts  of 
Harold  seemed  blameless  enough,  a?-ts  they  were,  and 
as  such  they  corrupted  the  genuine  simplicity  of  his 
earlier  nature.  He  had  conceived  for  the  first  time  an 
ambition  apart  from  that  of  service  to  his  country.  It 
was  no  longer  only  to  serve  the  land,  it  was  to  serve  it  as 
its  ruler,  that  animated  his  heart  and  colored  his  thoughts. 
Expediencies  began  to  dim  to  his  conscience  the  health- 
ful loveliness  of  Truth.  And  now,  too,  gradually,  that 
empire  which  Hilda  had  gained  over  his  brother  Sweyn 
began  to  sway  this  man,  heretofore  so  strong  in  his  sturdy 
sense.  The  future  became  to  him  a  dazzling  mystery, 
into  which  his  conjectures  plunged  themselves  more  and 
more.  He  had  not  yet  stood  in  the  Runic  circle  and 
invoked  the  dead;  but  the  spells  were  around  his  heart, 
and  in  his  own  soul  had  grown  up  the  familiar  demon. 

Still  Edith  reigned  alone,  if  not  in  his  thoughts,  at 
least  in  his  affections  ;  and  perhaps  it  was  the  hope  of 
conquering  all  obstacles  to  his  marriage  that  mainly 
induced  him  to  propitiate  the  Church,  through  whose 
agency  the  object  he  sought  must  be  attained  ;  and  still 
that  hope  gave  the  briglitest  lustre  to  the  distant  crown. 
But  he  who  admits  Ambition  to  the  companionship  of 
Love,  admits  a  giant  that  outstrides  the  gentler  footsteps 
of  its  comrade. 

Harold's  brow  lost  its  benign  calm.  He  became  thought- 
ful and  abstracted.  He  consulted  Edith  less,  Hilda  more. 
Edith  seemed  to  him  now  not  wise  enough  to  counsel. 
The  smile  of  his  Fylgia,  like  the  light  of  the  star  upon  a 
stream,  lit  the  surface,  but  could  not  pierce  to  the  deep. 

Meanwhile,  however,  the  policy  of  Harold  throve  and 


HAROLD.  261 

prospered.  He  liad  already  arrived  at  that  height,  that 
the  least  effort  to  make  power  popular  redoubled  its 
extent.  Gradually  all  voices  swelled  the  chorus  in  his 
praise  ;  gradually  men  became  familiar  to  the  question, 
"  If  Edward  dies  before  Edgar,  the  grandson  of  Ironsi(les, 
is  of  age  to  succeed,  where  can  we  find  a  king  like 
Harold  1  " 

In  the  midst  of  this  quiet  but  deepening  sunshine  of 
his  fate,  there  burst  a  storm,  which  seemed  destined 
either  to  darken  his  day  or  to  disperse  every  cloud  from 
the  horizon.  Algar,  the  only  possible  rival  to  his  power, 
—  the  only  opponent  no  arts  could  soften,  —  Algar,  whose 
hereditary  name  endeared  him  to  the  Saxon  laity,  whose 
father's  most  powerful  legacy  was  the  love  of  the  Saxon 
Church,  whose  martial  and  turbulent  spirit  had  only  the 
more  elevated  him  in  the  esteem  of  the  warlike  Danes  in 
East  Anglia  (the  earldom  in  which  he  had  succeeded 
Harold),  by  his  father's  death,  lord  of  the  great  princi- 
pality of  Mercia,  — -availed  himself  of  that  new  power  to 
break  out  again  into  rebellion.  Again  he  was  outlawed, 
again  he  leagued  with  the  fiery  Gryflyth.  All  Wales  was 
in  revolt ;  the  Marches  were  invaded  and  laid  waste. 
Rolfe,  the  feeble  Earl  of  Hereford,  died  at  this  critical 
juncture,  and  the  JSTornians  and  hirelings  imder  him 
mutinied  against  other  leaders  ;  a  fleet  of  vikings  from 
Norway  ravaged  the  western  coasts,  and,  sailing  up  the 
Menai,  joined  the  ships  of  Gryffyth,  and  the  whole  empire 
seemed  menaced  with  dissolution,  when  Edward  issued 
his  Herrbann,  and  Harold  at  the  head  of  the  royal  armies 
marched  on  the  foe. 

Dread  and  dangerous  were  those  defiles  of  Wales  ; 
amidst  them  had  been  foiled  or  slaughtered  all  the  war- 
riors under  Rolf  the  Norman  ;  no  Saxon  armies  had  won 
laurels  in  the  Cymrian's  own  mountain  home  within  the 


262  HAROLD. 

memory  of  man ;  nor  had  any  Saxon  ships  borne  the 
pahn  from  the  terrible  vikings  of  Norway.  Fail,  Harold, 
and  farewell  the  crown  !  —  succeed,  and  thou  hast  on 
thy  side  the  ultimam  rationem  regum  (the  last  argu- 
ment of  kings),  the  heart  of  the  army  over  which  thou 
art  chief. 


HAROLD.  263 


CHAPTER  VI. 

It  was  one  day  in  the  height  of  summer  that  two  horse- 
men rode  slowly,  and  conversing  with  each  other  in 
friendly  wise,  notwithstanding  an  evident  difference  of 
rank  and  of  nation,  through  the  lovely  country  which 
formed  the  Marches  of  AVales.  The  younger  of  these 
men  was  unmistakably  a  Norman ;  his  cap  only  par- 
tially covered  the  head,  which  was  shaven  from  the 
crown  to  the  nape  of  the  neck,^  while  in  front  the  hair, 
closely  cropped,  curled  short  and  thick  round  a  haughty 
but  intelligent  brow.  His  dress  fitted  close  to  his  shape, 
and  was  worn  without  mantle ;  his  leggings  were  curi- 
ously crossed  in  the  fashion  of  a  tartan,  and  on  his  heels 
were  spurs  of  gold.  He  was  wholly  unarmed ;  but 
behind  him  and  his  companion,  at  a  little  distance,  his 
war-horse,  completely  caparisoned,  was  led  by  a  single 
squire,  mounted  on  a  good  Norman  steed ;  while  six 
Saxon  theowes,  themselves  on  foot,  conducted  three  sump- 
ter-mules,  somewhat  heavily  laden,  not  only  with  the 
armor  of  the  Norman  knight,  but  panniers  containing 
rich  robes,  wines,  and  provender.  At  a  few  paces  farther 
behind,  marched  a  troop,  light-armed,  in  tough  hides 
curiously  tanned,  with  axes  swung  over  their  shoulders 
and  bows  in  their  hands. 

The  companion  of  the  knight  was  as  evidently  a  Saxon 
as  the  knight  was  unequivocally  a  Norman.  His  square, 
short  features,   contrasting  the  oval  visage  and  aquiline 

1  Bayeux  tapestry. 


264  HAROLD. 

profile  of  his  close-shaven  comrade,  were  half  concealed 
beneath  a  bushy  beard  and  immense  mustache.  His 
tunic  also  was  of  hide,  and,  tightened  at  the  waist,  fell 
loose  to  his  knee  ;  wliile  a  kind  of  cloak,  fastened  to  the 
right  shoulder  by  a  large  round  button  or  brooch,  flowed 
behind  and  in  front,  but  left  both  arms  free.  His  cap 
difiered  in  shape  from  the  Norman's,  being  round  and 
full  at  the  sides,  somewhat  in  shape  like  a  turban.  His 
bare,  brawny  throat  was  curiously  punctured  with  sundry 
devices,  and  a  verse  from  the  Psalms. 

His  countenance,  though  without  the  high  and  haughty 
brow,  and  the  acute,  observant  eye  of  his  comrade,  had 
a  pride  and  intelligence  of  its  own,  —  a  pride  somewhat 
sullen,  and  an  intelligence  somewhat  slow. 

"  My  good  friend  Sexwolf,"  quoth  the  l^orman,  in  very 
tolerable  Saxon,  "I  pray  you  not  so  to  misesteem  us. 
After  all  we  i^Tormans  are  of  your  own  race  :  our  fathers 
spoke  the  same  language  as  yours." 

"  That  may  be,"  said  the  Saxon,  bluntly  ;  "  and  so  did 
the  Danes,  with  little  difference,  when  they  burned  our 
houses  and  cut  our  throats." 

"  Old  tales,  those,"  replied  the  knight,  "  and  I  thank 
thee  for  the  comparison  ;  for  the  Danes,  thou  seest,  are 
now  settled  amongst  ye,  peaceful  subjects  and  quiet  men, 
and  in  a  few  generations  it  will  be  hard  to  guess  who 
comes  from  Saxon,  who  from  Dane." 

"  We  waste  time  talking  such  matters,"  returned  the 
Saxon,  feeling  himself  instinctively  no  match  in  argu- 
ment for  his  lettered  companion,  and  seeing  with  his 
native  strong  sense  that  some  ulterior  object,  though  he 
guessed  not  what,  lay  hid  in  the  conciliatory  language  of 
his  companion  ;  "  nor  do  I  believe.  Master  Mallet  or 
Gravel,  — forgive  me  if  I  miss  of  the  right  forms  to 
address   you,  —  that   Norman   will  ever  love    Saxon,    or 


HAROLD.  265 

Saxon  Norman  ;  so  let  us  cut  our  words  short.  There 
stands  the  convent,  at  which  you  would  like  to  rest  and 
refresh  yourself." 

The  Saxon  pointed  to  a  low,  clumsy  building  of  timber, 
forlorn  and  decayed,  close  by  a  rank  marsh,  over  which 
swarmed  gnats  and  all  foul  animalcules. 

Mallet  de  Graville,  for  it  was  he,  shrugged  his  shoulders, 
and  said,  with  an  air  of  pity  and  contempt, — 

"  I  would,  friend  Sexwolf,  that  thou  couldst  but  see 
the  houses  we  build  to  God  and  his  saints  in  our  Nor- 
mandy ;  fabrics  of  stately  stone,  on  the  fairest  sites.  Our 
Countess  Matilda  hath  a  notable  taste  for  the  masonry  ; 
and  our  workmen  are  the  brethren  of  Lombardy,  who 
know  all  the  mysteries  thereof." 

"I  pray  thee,  Dan-Norman,"  cried  the  Saxon,  "not  to 
put  such  ideas  into  the  soft  head  of  King  Edward.  We 
pay  enow  for  the  Church,  though  built  Ijut  of  timber ; 
saints  help  us  indeed,  if  it  were  builded  of  stone  !  " 

The  Norman  crossed  liimself,  as  if  he  had  heard  some 
signal  impiety,  and  then  said, — 

"Thou  lovest  not  Mother  Church,  worthy,  Sexwolf?" 
"  I  was  brought  up,"  replied  the  sturdy  Saxon,  "  to 
work  and  sweat  hard,  and  I  love  not  the  lazy  who  devour 
my  substance,  and  say  '  the  saints  gave  it  them.'  Knovvest 
thou  not,  Master  Mallet,  that  one-third  of  all  the  lands 
of  England  is  in  the  hands  of  the  priests  ? " 

"  Hem  !  "  said  the  acute  Norman,  who,  Avith  all  his 
devotion,  could  stoop  to  wring  worldly  advantage  from 
each  admission  of  his  comrade;  "then  in  this  merrie 
England  of  thine,  thou  hast  still  thy  grievances  and  cause 
of  complaint?" 

"  Yea,  indeed,  and  I  trow  it,"  quoth  the  Saxon,  even 
in  that  day  a  grumbler  ;  "but  I  take  it,  the  main  differ- 
ence between  thee  and  me  is,  that  I  can   say,  what  mis- 


266  HAROLD. 

likes  me  out  like  a  man  ;  and  it  would  fair  ill  with  thy 
limbs  or  thy  life  if  thou  wert  as  frank  in  the  grim  land  of 
thy  lieretoghy 

"  Now,  Notre  Dame  stop  thy  prating,"  said  the  Nor- 
man, in  high  disdain,  while  his  brow  frowned  and  his 
eye  sparkled.  "  Strong  judge  and  great  captain  as  is 
AVilliam  the  Norman,  his  barons  and  knights  hold  their 
heads  high  in  his  presence,  and  not  a  grievance  weighs 
on  the  heart  that  we  give  not  out  with  the  lip." 

"  So  have  I  heard,"  said  the  Saxon,  chuckling ;  "  I 
have  heard,  indeed,  that  ye  thegns,  or  great  men,  are  free 
enow,  and  plain-spoken.  But  what  of  the  commons,  — ■ 
the  sixhcendmen,  and  the  ceorls.  Master  Norman  %  Dare 
they  speak  as  we  speak  of  king  and  of  law,  of  thegn  and 
of  captain  ?  "      . 

The  Norman  wisely  curbed  the  scornful  "  No,  indeed," 
that  rushed  to  his  lips,  and  said,  all  sweet  and  debonair,  — 

"  Each  land  hath  its  customs,  dear  Sexwolf ;  and  if  the 
Norman  were  king  of  England,  he  would  take  the  laws  as 
he  finds  them,  and  the  ceorls  would  be  as  safe  with 
William  as  Edward." 

"  The  Norman,  king  of  England !  "  cried  the  Saxon, 
reddening  to  the  tips  of  his  great  ears  ;  "  what  dost  thou 
babble  of,  stranger?  The  Norman!  —  How  could  that 
ever  be? " 

"  Nay,  I  did  but  suggest,  —  but  suppose  such  a  case," 
replied  the  knight,  still  smothering  his  wrath.  "  And 
why  thinkest  thou  the  conceit  so  outrageous  ?  Thy  king 
is  childless  ;  William  is  his  next  of  kin,  and  dear  to  him 
as  a  brother  ;  and  if  Edward  did  leave  him  the  throne  —  " 

"  The  throne  is  for  no  man  to  leave,"  almost  roared  the 
Saxon.  "  Thinkest  thou  the  people  of  England  are  like 
cattle  and  sheep,  and  chattels  and  theowes,  to  be  left  by 
will,  as  man  fancies  ?     The  king's  wish  has  its  weight,  no 


HAROLD.  267 

doubt,  but  the  Witan  hath  its  yea  or  its  nay,  and  the 
Witan  and  Commons  are  seldom  at  issue  thereon.  Tliy 
duke  king  of  England  !     Marry  !     Ha  !  ha  !  " 

"  Brute  !  "  muttered  the  knight  to  himself  ;  then  adding 
aloud,  with  his  old  tone  of  irony  (now  much  habitually 
subdued  by  years  and  discretion),  "  Why  takest  thou  so 
the  part  of  the  ceorls?  thou  a  captain,  and  wellnigh  a 
thegn  !  " 

"  I  was  born  a  ceorl,  and  my  father  before  me," 
returned  Sexwolf,  "  and  I  feel  with  my  class  ;  though 
my  grandson  may  rank  with  the  thegns,  and,  for  aught  I 
know,  with  the  earls." 

The  Sire  de  Graville  involuntarily  drew  off  from  the 
Saxon's  side,  as  if  made  suddenly  aware  that  he  had 
grossly  demeaned  himself  in  such  unwitting  familiarity 
with  a  ceorl,  and  a  ceorl's  son ;  and  he  said,  with  a  much 
more  careless  accent  and  lofty  port  than  before,  — 

"Good  man,  thou  wert  a  ceorl,  and  now  thou  leadest 
Earl  Harold's  men  to  the  war  !  How  is  this  ?  I  do  not 
quite  comprehend  it." 

"  How  shouldst  thou,  poor  Norman  1 "  replied  the 
Saxon,  compassionately.  "  Tlie  tale  is  soon  told.  Know 
that  when  Harold  our  Earl  was  banished,  and  his  lauds 
taken,  we  his  ceorls  helped  with  his  sixhsendman,  Clapa, 
to  purchase  his  land,  nigh  by  London,  and  the  house 
wherein  thou  didst  find  me,  of  a  stranger,  thy  country- 
man, to  whom  they  Avere  lawlessly  given.  And  we  tilled 
the  land,  we  tended  the  herds,  and  we  kept  the  house  till 
the  earl  came  back." 

"  Ye  had  moneys  then,  —  moneys  of  your  own,  ye 
ceorls !  "  said  the  Norman,  avariciously. 

"  How  else  could  we  buy  our  freedom  1  Every  ceorl 
hath  some  hours  to  himself  to  employ  to  his  profit,  and 
can  lay  by  for  his  own  ends.     These  savings  we  gave  up 


268  HAROLD. 

for  our  earl,  and  when  the  earl  came  back,  he  gave  the 
sixhcemlinan  hides  of  land  enow  to  make  him  a  thegn ; 
and  he  gave  the  ceorls  who  had  holpen  Clapa,  their  free- 
dom and  broad  shares  of  his  boc-land,  and  most  of  them 
now  hold  their  own  ploughs  and  feed  their  own  herds. 
But  I  loved  the  earl  (having  no  wife)  better  than  swine 
and  glebe,  and  I  prayed  him  to  let  me  serve  him  in  arms. 
And  so  I  have  risen,  as  with  us  ceorls  can  rise." 

"  I  am  answered,"  said  Mallet  de  Graville,  thought- 
fully, and  still  somewhat  perplexed.  "  But  these  theowes 
(they  are  slaves)  never  rise.  It  cannot  matter  to  them 
Avhether  shaven  Norman  or  bearded  Saxon  sit  on  the 
throne  1 " 

"  Thou  art  right  there,"  answered  the  Saxon ;  "  it 
matters  as  little  to  them  as  it  doth  to  thy  thieves  and 
felons,  for  many  of  them  are  felons  and  thieves,  or  the 
children  of  such  ;  and  most  of  those  who  are  not,  it  is  said, 
ar(?  nt)t  Saxons,  but  the  barbarous  folks  whom  the  Saxons 
subdued.  No,  wretched  things,  and  scarce  men,  they 
care  nought  for  the  land.  Howbeit,  even  they  are  not 
Avithout  hope,  for  the  Church  takes  their  part  ;  and  that, 
at  least,  I  for  one  think  Church-worthy,"  added  the 
Saxon,  with  a  softened  eye.  "  And  every  abbot  is  bound 
to  set  free  three  theowes  on  his  lands,  and  few  who  own 
theowes  die  without  freeing  some  by  their  will  ;  so  that 
the  sons  of  theowes  may  be  thegns,  and  thegns  some  of 
them  are  at  this  day." 

"  Marvels  !  "  cried  the  Norman.  "  But  surely  they 
bear  a  stain  and  stigma,  and  their  fellow-thegns  flout 
them  ? " 

"  Not  a  whit,  —  why  so  ?  Land  is  land,  money  money. 
Little,  I  trow,  care  we  what  a  man's  father  may  have 
been,  if  the  man  himself  hath  his  ten  hides  or  more  of 
good  boc-land." 


HAROLD.  269 

"Ye  value  land  and  the  moneys,"  said  the  Norman; 
"so  do  we,  but  we  value  more  name  and  birth." 

"Ye  are  still  in  your  leading-strings,  Norman."  replied 
the  Saxon,  waxing  good-humored  in  his  contempt.  "  We 
liave  an  old  saying  and  a  wise  one,  '  All  come  from  Adam 
except  Tib  the  ploughman  ;  but  when  Tib  grows  rich, 
all  call  him  dear  brother.'  " 

"  With  such  pestilent  notions,"  quoth  the  Sire  de  Gra- 
ville,  no  longer  keeping  temper,  "  I  do  not  wonder  that 
our  fathers  of  Norway  and  Daneland  beat  ye  so  ea.sily. 
The  love  for  things  ancient  —  creed,  lineage,  and  name  — 
is  better  steel  against  the  stranger  than  your  smiths  ever 
welded." 

Therewith,  and  not  waiting  for  Sexwolf's  reply,  he 
clapped  spurs  to  his  palfrey,  and  soon  entered  the  court- 
yard of  the  convent. 

A  monk  of  the  order  of  St.  Benedict,  then  most  in 
favor,-'  ushered  the  noble  visitor  into  the  cell  of  the 
abbot ;  who,  after  gazing  at  him  a  moment  in  wonder  and 
delight,  clasped  him  to  his  breast,  and  kissed  him  heartily 
on  brow  and  cheek. 

"  Ah,  Guillaume,"  he  exclaimed  in  the  Norman  tongue, 
"  this  is  indeed  a  grace  for  which  to  sing  Jubilate.  Thou 
canst  not  guess  how  welcome  is  the  face  of  a  countryman 
in  this  horrible  land  of  ill-cooking  and  exile." 

"Talking  of  grace,  my  dear  father,  and  food,"  said  De 
Graville,  loosening  the  cincture  of  the  tight  vest  which 
gave  him  the  shape  of  a  wasp,  —  for  even  at  that  early 
period  small  waists  were  in  vogue  with  the  warlike  fops 
of  the  French  continent,  —  "  talking  of  grace,  the  sooner 
thou  sayest  it  over  some  friendly  refection,  the  more  will 
the  Latin  sound  unctuous  and  musical.  I  have  journeyed 
since  daybreak,  and  am  now  hungered  and  faint." 

1  Indeed,  apparently  the  only  monastic  order  in  England. 


270  HAROLD. 

"  Alack,  alack  ! "  cried  the  abbot,  plaintively,  "  thou 
knowest  little,  ray  son,  what  hardships  Ave  endure  in 
these  parts,  —  how  larded  our  larders,  and  how  nefarious 
our  fare.     The  flesh  of  swine  salted  —  " 

"  The  flesh  of  Beelzebub  !  "  cried  Mallet  de  Graville, 
aghast.  "  But  comfort  thee,  I  have  stores  on  my  surap- 
ter-mules,  — poulardes  and  fishes,  and  other  not  despica- 
ble comestibles,  and  a  few  flasks  of  wine,  not  pressed, 
laud  the  saints  !  from  the  vines  of  this  country  :  where- 
fore, wilt  thou  see  to  it,  and  instruct  thy  cooks  how  to 
season  the  cheer  ? " 

"No  cooks  have  I  to  trust  to,"  replied  the  abbot;  "  of 
cooking  know  they  here  as  much  as  of  Latin  ;  nathless,  I 
will  go  and  do  my  best  with  the  stew-pans.  Meanwhile, 
thou  wilt  at  least  have  rest  and  the  bath.  For  the 
Saxons,  even  in  tlieir  convents,  are  a  clean  race,  and 
learned  the  bath  from  the  Dane." 

"  That  I  have  noted,"  said  the  knight,  "  for  even  at  the 
smallest  house  at  which  I  have  lodged  in  my  way  from  Lon- 
don, the  host  hath  courteously  ofi"ered  me  the  bath,  and 
the  hostess  linen  curious  and  fragrant ;  and  to  say  truth, 
the  poor  peo]ile  are  hospitable  and  kind,  despite  their 
uncouth  hate  of  the  foreigner  ;  nor  is  their  meat  to  be 
despised,  plentiful  and  succulent ;  but  pardex,  as  thou 
sayest,  little  helped  by  the  art  of  dressing.  Wherefore, 
my  father,  I  will  while  the  time  till  the  poidardes  be 
roasted,  and  the  fish  broiled  or  stewed,  by  the  ablutions 
thou  profFerest  me.  I  shall  tarry  with  thee  some  hours, 
for  I  have  much  to  learn  " 

The  abbot  then  led  the  Sire  de  Graville  by  the  hand 
to  the  cell  of  honor  and  guestship,  and  having  seen  that 
the  bath  prepared  was  of  warmth  sufficient,  —  for  both 
Norman  and  Saxon  (hardy  men  as  they  seem  to  us  from 
afar)  so  shuddered  at  the  touch  of  cold  water,  that  a  bath 


HAKOLD.  271 

of  natural  temperature  (as  well  as  a  hard  bed)  was  some- 
times imposed  as  a  penance,  —  the  good  father  went  his 
way  to  examine  the  sumpter-mules,  and  admonish  the 
much-sutferiug  and  bewildered  lay-brother  who  officiated 
as  cook,  and  who,  speaking  neither  Norman  nor  Latin, 
scarce  made  out  one  word  in  ten  of  his  superior's  elabo- 
rate exhortations. 

Mallet's  squire,  with  a  change  of  raiment,  and  goodly 
cotiers  of  soaps,  unguents,  and  odors,  took  his  way  to  the 
knight ;  for  a  Norman  of  birth  was  accustomed  to  much 
personal  attendance,  and  had  all  respect  for  the  body  : 
and  it  was  nearly  an  hour  before,  in  a  long  gown  of  fur, 
reshaven,  dainty,  and  decked,  the  Sire  de  Graville  bowed, 
and  sighed,  and  prayed  before  the  refection  set  out  in  the 
abbot's  cell. 

The  two  Normans,  despite  the  sharp  apj^etite  of  the 
layman,  ate  with  great  gravity  and  decorum,  drawing 
forth  the  morsels  served  to  them  on  spits  with  silent 
examination  ;  seldom  more  than  tasting,  with  looks  of 
patient  dissatisfaction,  eacli  of  the  comestibles  ;  sipping 
rather  than  drinking,  nibbling  rather  than  devouring  ; 
washing  their  fingers  in  rose-water  with  nice  care  at  the 
close,  and  waving  them  afterwards  gracefully  in  the  air, 
to  allow  the  moisture  somewhat  to  exhale  before  they 
Aviped  off  the  lingering  dews  with  their  napkins.  Then 
they  exchanged  looks  and  sighed  in  concert,  as  if  recalling 
the  polished  manners  of  Normandy,  still  retained  in  tliat 
desolate  exile.  And  their  temperate  meal  thus  concluded, 
dishes,  wines,  and  attendants  vanished,  and  their  talk 
commenced. 

"  How  earnest  thou  in  England  ? "  asked  the  abbot, 
abruptly. 

"  Sauf  your  reverence,"  answered  De  Graville,  "  not 
wholly  for  reasons  dift'erent  from  those  that  bring  thee 


272  HAROLD. 

hither.  When,  after  the  death  of  that  truculent  and 
orgulous  Godwin,  King  Edward  entreated  Harold  to  let 
him  have  back  some  of  his  dear  Norman  favorites,  tliou, 
then  little  pleased  with  the  plain  fare  and  sharp  discipline 
of  the  convent  of  Bee,  didst  pray  Bishop  William  of  Lon- 
don to  accompany  such  train  as  Harold,  moved  by  his 
poor  king's  supplication,  was  pleased  to  permit.  The 
bishop  consented,  and  thou  wert  enabled  to  change  raoidc's 
cowl  tor  abbot's  mitre.  In  a  word,  ambition  brought 
thee  to  England,  and  ambition  brings  me  hither." 

"  Hem  !  and  how  ?  Mayst  thou  thrive  better  tlian  I 
in  this  swine-sty !  " 

"  You  remember,"  renewed  De  Graville,  "  that  Lan- 
franc,  the  Lombard,  was  pleased  to  take  interest  in  my 
fortunes,  then  not  the  most  flourishing,  and  after  his 
return  from  Rome,  with  the  Pope's  dispensation  for 
Count  William's  marriage  with  his  cousin,  he  became 
W^illiam's  most  trusted  adviser.  Both  William  and  Lan- 
franc  were  desirous  to  set  an  example  of  learning  to  our 
Latinless  nobles,  and  therefore  my  scholarship  found 
grace  in  their  eyes.  lu  brief, — since  then  I  have  pros- 
pered and  thriven.  I  have  fair  lands  by  the  Seine,  free 
from  clutch  of  merchant  and  Jew.  I  have  founded  a 
convent,  and  slain  some  hundreds  of  Breton  marauders. 
Need  I  say  that  I  am  in  higli  favor?  Now  it  so  chanced 
that  a  cousin  of  mine,  Hugo  de  Magnaville,  a  brave  lance 
and  franc-rider,  chanced  to  murder  his  brother  in  a  little 
domestic  affray,  and  being  of  conscience  tender  and  nice, 
the  deed  preyed  on  him,  and  he  gave  his  lands  to  Odo  of 
Bayeux,  and  set  off  to  Jerusalem.  There,  having  prayed 
at  the  Tomb  (the  knight  crossed  himself),  he  felt  at  once 
miraculously  cheered  and  relieved  ;  but,  journeying  back, 
mishaps  befell  him.  He  was  made  slave  by  some  infidel, 
to   one    of  whose   wives  he    sought    to   be   gallant,  par 


HAEOLD.  273 

amours,  and  only  escaped  at  last  by  setting  fire  to  paynim 
and  prison.  ISTow,  by  the  aid  of  the  Virgin,  he  has  got 
back  to  Ronen,  and  holds  his  own  land  again  in  fief  from 
proud  Odo,  as  a  knight  of  the  bishop's.  It  so  happened 
that,  passing  homeward  through  Lycia,  before  tliese  mis- 
fortunes befell  him,  he  made  friends  with  a  fellow-pilgrim 
who  had  just  returned,  like  himself,  from  the  Sepulchre, 
but  not  lightened,  like  him,  of  the  load  of  his  crime. 
This  poor  palmer  lay  broken-hearted  and  dying  in  the 
hut  of  an  eremite,  where  my  cousin  took  shelter ;  and, 
learning  that  Hugo  was  on  his  way  to  Normandy,  he 
made  himself  known  as  Sweyn,  the  once  fair  and  proud 
Earl  of  England,  eldest  son  to  old  Godwin,  and  father 
to  Haco,  whom  our  count  still  holds  as  a  hostage.  He 
besought  Hugo  to  intercede  with  the  count  for  Haco's 
speedy  release  and  return,  if  King  Edward  assented 
thereto ;  and  charged  my  cousin,  moreover,  with  a  letter 
to  Harold,  his  brother,  which  Hugo  undertook  to  send 
over.  By  good-luck,  it  so  chanced  that,  through  all  his 
sore  trials  cousin  Hugo  kept  safe  round  his  neck  a  leaden 
effigy  of  the  Virgin.  The  infidels  disdained  to  rob  him 
of  lead,  little  dreaming  the  worth  which  the  sanctity  gave 
to  the  metal.  To  the  back  of  the  image  Hugo  fastened 
the  letter,  and  so,  though  somewhat  tattered  and  dam- 
aged, he  had  it  still  with  him  on  arriving  in  Rouen. 

"  Knowing  then  my  grace  with  the  count,  and  not, 
despite  absolution  and  pilgrimage,  much  wishing  to  trust 
himself  in  the  presence  of  William,  who  thinks  gravely 
of  fratricide,  he  prayed  me  to  deliver  the  message,  and 
ask  leave  to  send  to  England  the  letter." 

"  It  is  a  long  tale,"  quoth  the  abbot. 

"  Patience,  my  father  !  I  am  nearly  at  the  end.  Nothing 
more  in  season  could  cliance  for  my  fortunes.  Know 
that  William  has  been  long  moody  and  anxious  as  to 

VOL.  I.  — 18 


274  HAROLD. 

matters  in  England.  Tlie  secret  accounts  he  receives 
from  tlie  Bishop  of  London  make  him  see  that  Edward's 
heart  is  much  alienated  from  him,  especially  since  the 
count  has  had  daughters  and  sons ;  for,  as  thou  knowest, 
William  and  Edward  both  took  vows  of  chastity  in  youth, ^ 
and  William  got  absolved  from  his,  while  Edward  hath 
kept  firm  to  the  plight.  Not  long  ere  my  cousin  came 
back,  William  had  heard  that  Edward  had  acknowledged 
his  kinsman  as  natural  heir  to  his  throne.  Grieved  and 
troubled  at  this,  William  had  said  in  my  hearing,  *  Would 
that  amidst  yon  statues  of  steel  there  were  some  cool 
head  and  wise  tongue  I  could  trust  with  my  interests  in 
England  !  and  would  that  I  could  devise  fitting  plea  and 
excuse  for  an  envoy  to  Harold  the  Earl !  '  Much  had 
I  mused  over  these  words,  and  a  light-hearted  man  was 
Mallet  de  Graville  when,  with  Sweyn's  letter  in  hand, 
he  went  to  Lanfranc  the  abbot  and  said,  '  Patron  and 
father  !  thou  knowest  that  I,  almost  alone  of  the  Nor- 
man knights,  have  studied  the  Saxon  language.  And  if 
the  duke  wants  messenger  and  plea,  here  stands  the 
messenger,  and  in  this  hand  is  the  plea.'  Then  I  told 
my  tale.  Lanfranc  went  at  once  to  Duke  AVilliam.  By 
this  time  news  of  the  Atheling's  death  had  arrived,  and 
things  looked  more  bright  to  my  liege.  Duke  William 
■was  pleased  to  summon  me  straightway,  and  give  me 
his  instructions.  So  over  the  sea  I  came  alone,  save  a 
single  squire ;  reached  London,  learned  the  king  and  his 
court  were  at  Winchester  (but  with  them  I  had  little  to 
do),  and  that  Harold  the  Earl  was  at  the  head  of  his 
forces  in  Wales  against  Gryffyth  the  Lion  King.  The  earl 
had  sent  in  haste  for  a  picked  and  chosen  band  of  his 
own  retainers,  on  his  demesnes  near  the  city.     These  I 

1  See  note  to  "  Kobert  of  Gloucester,"  vol.  ii.  p.  372. 


HAllOLD.  275 

joined,  and,  learning  thy  name  at  the  monastery  at 
Gloucester,  I  stopped  here  to  tell  thee  my  news  and  hear 
thine." 

"Dear  brother,"  said  the  abbot,  looking  enviously  on 
the  knight,  "  would  that,  like  thee,  instead  of  entering 
the  Church,  I  had  taken  up  arms  !  Alike  once  was  our 
lot,  well-born  and  penniless.  Ah  me  !  —  Thou  art  now  as 
the  swan  on  the  river,  and  I  as  the  shell  on  the  rock." 

"  But,"  quoth  the  knight,  "  though  the  canons,  it  is 
true,  forbid  monks  to  knock  people  on  the  head,  except 
in  self-preservation,  thou  knowest  well  that,  even  in  Nor- 
mandy (which,  I  take  it,  is  the  sacred  college  of  all  priestly 
lore  on  this  side  the  Alps),  those  canons  are  deemed  too 
rigorous  for  practice ;  and,  at  all  events,  it  is  not  forbid- 
den thee  to  look  on  the  pastime  with  sword  or  mace  by 
thy  side  in  case  of  need.  Wherefore,  remembering  thee 
in  times  past,  I  little  counted  on  finding  thee,  —  like  a 
slug  in  thy  cell  !  No  ;  but  with  mail  on  thy  back,  the 
canons  clean  forgotten,  and  helping  stout  Harold  to  sliver 
and  brain  these  turbulent  Welshmen." 

"  Ah  me  !  ah  me  !  No  such  good  fortune  ! "  sighed  the 
tall  abbot.  "  Little,  despite  thy  former  sojourn  in  Lon- 
don, and  thy  lore  of  their  tongue,  knowest  thou  of  these 
unmannerly  Saxons.  Rarely  indeed  do  abbot  and  prelate 
ride  to  the  battle  ;  ^  and  were  it  not  for  a  huge  Danish 
monk,  who  took  refuge  here  to  escape  mutilation  for  rob- 
bery, and  who  mistakes  the  Virgin  for  a  Valkyr,  and 

1  The  Saxon  priests  were  stricklj  forbidden  to  bear  arms.  — 
Spelm.  :  "Concil."  p.  238. 

It  is  mentioned  in  the  English  Chronicles,  as  a  very  extraordinary 
circumstance,  that  a  bishop  of  Hereford,  who  had  been  Harold's 
chaplain,  did  actually  take  sword  and  shield  against  the  Welsh. 
Unluckily,  this  valiant  prelate  was  slain  so  soon  that  it  was  no 
encouraging  example. 


276  HAROLD. 

St.  Peter  for  Thor,  —  were  it  not,  I  say,  that  we  now  and 
then  have  a  bout  at  sword-play  together,  my  arm  would 
be  quite  out  of  practice." 

"  Cheer  thee,  old  friend,"  said  the  knight,  pityingly ; 
"  better  times  m.ay  come  yet.  Meanwhile,  now  to  affairs  ; 
for  all  I  hear  strengthens  all  William  has  heard,  that 
Harold  the  Earl  is  the  first  man  in  England.  Is  it  not 
so?" 

"  Truly,  and  without  dispute." 

"  Is  he  married  or  celibate  1  For  that  is  a  question 
which  even  his  own  men  seem  to  answer  equivocally." 

"  Why,  all  the  wandering  minstrels  have  songs,  I  am 
told  by  those  who  comprehend  this  poor  barbarous  tongue, 
of  the  beauty  of  Editha  pulchi-a,  to  whom  it  is  said  the 
earl  is  betrothed,  or  it  may  be  worse.  But  he  is  certainly 
not  married,  for  the  dame  is  akin  to  him  within  the 
degrees  of  the  Church." 

"  Hem,  not  married  !  that  is  well ;  and  this  Algar,  or 
Elgar,  he  is  not  now  with  the  Welsh,  I  hear?" 

"  No ;  sore  ill  at  Chester  with  wounds  and  much 
chafing,  for  he  hath  sense  to  see  that  his  cause  is  lost. 
The  Norwegian  fleet  have  been  scattered  over  the  seas  by 
the  earl's  ships  like  birds  in  a  storm.  The  rebel  Saxons 
who  joined  Gryffyth  under  Algar  have  been  so  beaten, 
that  those  who  survive  have  deserted  their  chief,  and 
Gryffyth  himself  is  penned  up  in  his  last  defiles,  and 
cannot  much  longer  resist  the  stout  foe,  who,  by  valorous 
St.  Michael,  is  truly  a  great  captain.  As  soon  as  Gryffyth 
is  subdued,  Algar  will  be  crushed  in  his  retreat,  like  a 
bloated  spider  in  his  web ;  and  then  England  will  have 
rest,  unless  our  liege,  as  thou  hintest,  set  her  to  work 
again." 

The  Norman  knight  mused  a  few  moments  before  he 
said,  — 


HAROLD,  277 

"  I  understand,  then,  that  there  is  no  man  in  the  land 
■who  is  peer  to  Harold, — not,  I  suppose,  Tostig  his 
brother  1  " 

"  Not  Tostig,  surely,  whom  nought  but  Harold's  repute 
keeps  a  day  in  his  earldom.  But  of  late  —  for  he  is  brave 
and  skilful  in  war  —  he  hath  done  much  to  command  the 
respect,  though  he  cannot  win  back  the  love,  of  his  fierce 
Northumbrians  ;  for  he  hath  holpen  the  earl  gallantly  in 
this  invasion  of  Wales,  both  by  sea  and  by  land.  But 
Tostig  shines  only  from  his  brother's  light ;  and  if  Gurth 
were  more  ambitious,  Gurth  alone  could  be  Harold's 
rival." 

The  Norman,  much  satisfied  with  the  information  thus 
gleaned  from  the  abbot,  who,  despite  his  ignorance  of  the 
Saxon  tongue,  was,  like  all  his  countrymen,  acute  and 
curious,  now  rose  to  depart.  The  abbot,  detaining  him  a 
few  moments,  and  looking  at  him  wistfully,  said  in  a  low 
voice,  — 

"  What  thinkest  thou  are  Count  William's  chances  of 
England  1 " 

"  Good,  if  he  have  recourse  to  stratagem  :  sure,  if  he 
can  win  Harold." 

"  Yet,  take  my  word,  the  English  love  not  the  Nor- 
mans, and  will  fight  stiffly." 

"  That  I  believe.  But  if  fighting  must  be,  I  see  that 
it  will  be  the  fight  of  a  single  battle,  for  there  is  neither 
fortress  nor  mountain  to  admit  of  long  warfare.  And 
look  you,  my  friend,  everything  here  is  toorn  out  /  The 
royal  line  is  extinct  with  Edward,  save  in  a  child,  whom 
I  hear  no  man  name  as  a  successor ;  the  old  nobility  are 
gone  ;  there  is  no  reverence  for  old  names  ;  the  Church  is 
as  decrepit  in  the  spirit  as  thy  lath  monastery  is  decayed 
in  its  timbers  ;  the  martial  spirit  of  the  Saxon  is  half 
rotted  away  in  the  subjugation  to  a  clergy,  not  brave  and 


278  HAROLD. 

learned,  but  timid  and  ignorant ;  the  desire  for  money 
eats  up  all  manhood  ;  the  people  have  been  accustomed  to 
foreign  monarchs  under  the  Danes;  —  and  William,  once 
victor,  would  have  but  to  promise  to  retain  the  old  laws 
and  liberties  to  establish  himself  as  firmly  as  Canute. 
The  Anglo-Danes  might  trouble  him  somewhat,  but  rebel- 
lion would  become  a  weapon  in  the  hands  of  a  schemer 
like  William.  He  would  bristle  all  the  land  with  castles 
and  forts,  and  hold  it  as  a  camp.  My  poor  friend,  we  shall 
live  yet  to  exchange  gratulations,  —  thou  prelate  of  some 
fair  English  see,  and  I  baron  of  broad  English  lands." 

"I  think  thou  art  right,"  said  the  tall  abbot,  cheerily; 
"and,  marry,  when  the  day  comes,  I  will  at  least  fight 
for  the  duke.  Yea,  —  thou  art  right,"  he  continued, 
looking  round  the  dilapidated  walls  of  the  cell ;  "  all  here 
is  worn  out,  and  nought  can  restore  the  realm,  save  the 
I^orman  William,  or  —  " 

"  Or  who  ? " 

"  Or  the  Saxon  Harold.  But  thou  goest  to  see  him,  — 
judge  for  thyself." 

"  I  will  do  so,  and  heedfully,"  said  the  Sire  de 
Graville ;  and,  embracing  his  friend,  he  renewed  his 
journey. 


HAROLD,  279 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Messire  Mallet  de  Graville  possessed  in  perfection 
that  cunning  astuteness  which  characterized  the  Normans, 
as  it  did  all  the  old  pirate  races  of  the  Baltic ;  and  if,  O 
reader,  thou,  peradventure,  shouldst  ever  in  this  remote 
day  have  dealings  with  the  tall  men  of  Ebor  or  Yorkshire, 
there  wilt  thou  yet  find  the  old  Dane-father's  wit ;  it  may 
be  to  thy  cost,  —  more  especially  if  treating  for  those  ani- 
mals which  the  ancestors  ate,  and  which  the  sons,  without 
eating,  still  manage  to  fatten  on. 

But  though  the  crafty  knight  did  his  best,  during  liis 
progress  from  London  into  Wales,  to  extract  from  Sex- 
wolf  all  such  particulars  respecting  Harold  and  his 
brethren  as  he  had  reasons  for  wishing  to  learn,  he  found 
the  stubborn  sagacity  or  caution  of  the  Saxon  more  than 
a  match  for  him.  Sexwolf  had  a  dog's  instinct  in  all 
that  related  to  his  master ;  and  he  felt,  though  he  scarce 
knew  why,  that  the  Norman  cloaked  some  design  upon 
Harold  in  all  the  cross-questionings  so  carelessly  ventured. 
And  his  stiff  silence,  or  bluflf  replies,  when  Harold  was 
mentioned,  contrasted  much  the  unreserve  of  his  talk 
when  it  turned  upon  the  general  topics  of  the  day,  or  the 
peculiarities  of  Saxon  manners. 

By  degrees,  therefore,  the  kniglit,  chafed  and  foiled, 
drew  into  himself ;  and  seeing  no  farther  use  could  be 
made  of  the  Saxon,  suffered  his  own  national  scorn  of 
villein  companionship  to  replace  his  artificial  urbanity. 
He  therefore  rode  alone,  and  a  little  in  advance  of  the 


280  HAROLD. 

rest,  noticing  with  a  soldier's  eye  the  characteristics  of 
the  country,  and  marvelling,  while  he  rejoiced,  at  the 
insignificance  of  the  defences  which,  even  on  the  Marches, 
guarded  the  English  country  from  the  Cymrian  ravager. 
In  musings  of  no  very  auspicious  and  friendly  nature 
towards  the  land  he  thus  visited,  the  Norman,  on  the 
seccMid  day  from  that  in  which  he  had  conversed  with 
the  abbot,  found  himself  amongst  the  savage  defiles  of 
North  Wales. 

Pausing  there  in  a  narrow  pass  overhung  with  Avild 
and  desolate  rocks,  the  knight  deliberately  summoned  his 
squires,  clad  himself  in  his  ring  mail,  and  mounted  his 
great  destrier. 

"  Thou  dost  wrong,  Xorman,"  said  Sexwolf ;  "  thou 
fatiguest  tliyself  in  vain,  —  heavy  arms  here  are  needless. 
I  have  fought  in  this  country  before  ;  and  as  for  thy 
steed,  thou  wilt  soon  have  to  forsake  it,  and  march  on 
foot." 

"  Know,  friend,"  retorted  the  knight,  "  that  I  come  not 
here  to  learn  the  horn-book  of  war ;  and,  for  the  rest, 
know  also  that  a  noble  of  Normandy  parts  with  his  life 
ere  he  forsakes  his  good  steed." 

"  Ye  outlanders  and  Frenchmen,"  said  Sexwolf,  showing 
the  whole  of  his  teeth  through  his  forest  of  beard,  "  love 
boast  and  big  talk  ;  and,  on  my  troth,  thou  mayest  have 
thy  belly  full  of  them  yet ;  for  we  are  still  in  the  track 
of  Harold,  and  Harold  never  leaves  behind  him  a  foe. 
Thou  art  as  safe  here  as  if  singing  psalms  in  a  convent." 

"  For  thy  jests,  let  them  pass,  courteous  sir,"  said  the 
Norman  ;  "  but  I  pray  thee  only  not  to  call  me  French- 
man.-^    I  impute  it  to  thy  ignorance  in  things  comely  and 

1  The  Normans  and  French  detested  each  other  ;  and  it  was  the 
Norman  who  taught  to  the  Saxon  his  own  animosities  against  the 
Prank.     A  very  eminent  antiquary,  indeed,  De  la  Rue,  considered 


HAROLD.  281 

martial,  and  not  to  thy  design  to  insult  me.  Though  my 
own  mother  was  French,  learn  that  a  Norman  despises  a 
Frank  only  less  than  he  doth  a  Jew." 

"Crave  your  grace,"  said  the  Saxon,  "but  I  thought 
all  ye  outlanders  were  the  same,  rib  and  rib,  sibbe  and 
sibbe." 

"  Thou  wilt  know  better  one  of  these  days.  March  on, 
Master  Sexwolf." 

The  pass  gradually  opened  on  a  wide  patch  of  rugged 
and  herbless  waste ;  and  Sexwolf,  riding  up  to  the  knight, 
directed  his  attention  to  a  stone,  on  which  was  inscribed 
the  words,  ^^  Hie  victor  fuit  Haroldus"  —  here  Harold 
conquered. 

"In  sight  of  a  stone  like  that,  no  "Walloon  dare  come," 
said  the  Saxon. 

"  A  simple  and  classical  trophy,"  remarked  the  Nor- 
man, complacently,  "  and  saith  much.  I  am  glad  to  see 
thy  lord  knows  the  Latin." 

"  I  say  not  that  he  knows  Latin,"  replied  the  prudent 
Saxon,  fearing  that  that  could  be  no  wholesome  informa- 
tion on  his  lord's  part,  which  was  of  a  kind  to  give  glad- 
ness to  the  Norman,  —  "  Ride  on  while  the  road  lets  ye, 
in  God's  name." 

On  the  confines  of  Caernarvonshire  the  troop  halted  at 
a  small  village,  round  which  had  been  newly  dug  a  deep 
military  trench,  bristling  with  palisades,  and  within  its 
confines   might  be    seen  —  some  reclined  on    the    grass, 

that  the  Bayeux  tapestry  could  not  be  the  work  of  Matilda,  or  her 
age,  because  in  it  the  Normans  are  called  French  ;  but  that  is  a 
gross  blunder  on  his  part ;  for  William,  in  his  own  charters,  calls 
the  Normans  "  Franci."  Wace,  in  his  "  Roman  de  Rou,"  often  styles 
the  Normans  "  French  ;  "  and  William  of  Poitiers,  a  contemporary 
of  the  Conqueror,  gives  them  also  in  one  passage  the  same  name. 
Still,  it  is  true  that  the  Normans  were  generally  very  tenacious  of 
their  distinction  from  their  gallant  but  hostile  neighbors. 


282  HAROLD. 

some  at  dice,  some  drinking  —  many  men,  whose  garbs 
of  tanned  hide,  as  well  as  a  pennon  waving  from  a  little 
mound  in  tlie  midst,  bearing  the  tiger  heads  of  Earl 
Harold's  insignia,  showed  them  to  be  Saxons. 

"  Here  we  shall  learn,"  said  Sexwolf,  "  what  the  earl 
is  about,  —  and  here,  at  present,  ends  my  journey." 

"  Are  these  the  earl's  headquarters  then?  —  no  castle, 
even  of  wood, — no  wall,  nought  but  ditch  and  i)Lili- 
sades?"  asked  Mallet  de  Graville,  in  a  tone  between 
surprise  and  contempt. 

"  Norman,"  said  Sexwolf,  "  the  castle  is  there,  though  you 
see  it  not,  and  so  are  the  walls.  The  castle  is  Harold's 
name,  which  no  Walloon  will  dare  to  confront ;  and  the 
walls  are  the  heaps  of  the  slain  which  lie  in  every 
valley  around."  So  saying,  he  wound  his  horn,  which 
was  speedily  answered,  and  led  the  way  over  a  plank 
which  admitted  across  the  trench. 

"  'Not  even  a  drawbridge  !  "  groaned  the  knight. 

Sexwolf  exchanged  a  few  words  with  one  who  seemed 
the  head  of  the  small  garrison,  and  then  regaining  the 
Norman,  said,  "  The  earl  and  his  men  have  advanced 
into  the  mountainous  regions  of  Snowdon ;  and  there,  it 
is  said,  the  blood-lusting  Gryffyth  is  at  length  driven  to 
bay.  Harold  hath  left  orders  that,  after  as  brief  a  refresh- 
ment as  may  be,  I  and  my  men,  taking  the  guide  he 
hath  left  for  us,  join  him  on  foot.  There  may  now  be 
danger ;  for  though  Gryffyth  himself  may  be  pinned  to 
his  heights,  he  may  have  yet  some  friends  in  these  parts 
to  start  up  from  crag  and  combe.  The  way  on  horse  is 
impassable  :  wherefore.  Master  Norman,  as  our  quarrel  is 
not  thine,  nor  thine  our  lord,  I  commend  thee  to  halt  here 
in  peace  and  in  safety,  with  the  sick  and  the  prisoners." 

"  It  is  a  merry  companionship,  doubtless,"  said  the 
Norman  ;  "  but  one  travels  to  learn,  and  I  would  faiu 


HAROLD.  283 

see  somewhat  of  thine  uncivil  skirmishings  with  these 
men  of  the  mountains  ;  wherefore,  as  I  fear  my  poor 
mules  are  light  of  tlie  provender,  give  me  to  eat  and  to 
drink.  And  then  shalt  thou  see,  should  we  come  in 
sight  of  the  enemy,  if  a  Norman's  big  words  are  the 
sauce  of  small  deeds." 

"Well  spoken,  and  better  than  I  reckoned  on,"  said 
Sexwolf,  heartily. 

While  De  Graville,  alighting,  sauntered  about  the 
village,  the  rest  of  the  troop  exchanged  greetings  with 
their  countrymen.  It  was,  even  to  the  warrior's  eye,  a 
mournful  scene.  Here  and  there,  heaps  of  ashes  and 
ruin  :  houses  riddled  and  burned,  —  the  small,  humble 
church,  untouched  indeed  by  war,  but  looking  desolate 
and  forlorn,  with  sheep  grazing  on  large  recent  mounds 
thrown  over  the  brave  dead,  who  slept  in  the  ancestral 
spot  they  had  defended. 

The  air  was  fragrant  with  the  spicy  smells  of  the  gale 
or  bog-myrtle  ;  and  the  village  lay  sequestered  in  a  scene 
wild  indeed  and  savage,  but  prodigal  of  a  stern  beauty  to 
which  the  Norman,  poet  by  race,  and  scholar  by  culture, 
was  not  insensible.  Seating  himself  on  a  rude  stone, 
apart  from  all  the  warlike  and  murmuring  groups,  he 
looked  forth  on  the  dim  and  vast  mountain-peaks,  and 
the  rivulet  that  rushed  below,  intersecting  the  village, 
and  lost  amidst  copses  of  mountain-ash.  From  these 
more  refined  contemplations  he  was  roused  by  Sexwolf, 
who,  with  greater  courtesy  than  was  habitual  to  him, 
accompanied  the  theowes  who  brought  the  knight  a  repast, 
consisting  of  cheese  and  small  pieces  of  seethed  kid,  with 
a  large  horn  of  very  indifferent  mead. 

"  The  earl  puts  all  his  men  on  Welsh  diet,"  said  the 
captain,  apologetically ;  "  for,  indeed,  in  this  lengthy  war- 
fare, nought  else  is  to  be  had  !  " 


284  HAROLD. 

The  knight  curiously  inspected  the  cheese,  and  bent 
earnestly  over  the  kid. 

"It  sufficeth,  good  Sexwolf,"  said  he,  suppressing  a 
natural  sigh  :  "  but  instead  of  this  honey-drink,  which 
is  more  fit  for  bees  than  for  men,  get  me  a  draught  of 
fresh  water  :  water  is  your  only  safe  drink  before  fight- 
ing." 

"  Thou  hast  never  drunk  ale,  then  !  "  said  the  Saxon  ; 
"  but  thy  foreign  tastes  shall  be  heeded,  strange  man." 

A  little  after  noon  the  horns  were  sounded,  and  the 
troop  prepared  to  depart.  But  the  Norman  observed  that 
they  had  left  behind  all  their  horses  ;  and  his  squire  ap- 
proaching, informed  him  that  Sexwolf  had  positively  for- 
bidden the  knight's  steed  to  be  brought  forth. 

"Was  it  ever  heard  before,"  cried  Sire  Mallet  de 
Graville,  "  that  a  Norman  knight  was  expected  to  walk, 
and  to  walk  against  a  foe  too  !  Call  hither  the  villein, 
—  that  is,  the  captain." 

But  Sexwolf  himself  here  appeared,  and  to  him  De 
Graville  addressed  his  indignant  remonstrance.  The 
Saxon  stood  firm,  and  to  each  argument  replied  simply, 
"  It  is  the  earl's  orders ; "  and  finally  wound  up  with  a 
bluff,  "  Go,  or  let  alone  ;  stay  here  with  thy  horse,  or 
march  with  us  on  thy  feet." 

"  My  horse  is  a  gentleman,"  answered  the  knight,  "  and, 
as  such,  would  be  my  more  fitting  companion  ;  but,  as  it  is, 
I  yield  to  compulsion,  —  I  bid  thee  solemnly  observe,  by 
compulsion ;  so  that  it  may  never  be  said  of  William 
Mallet  de  Graville  that  he  Avalked,  bon  gre,  to  battle." 
With  that  he  loosened  his  sword  in  the  sheath,  and,  still 
retaining  his  ring  mail,  fitting  close  as  a  shirt,  strode  on 
with  the  rest. 

A  Welsh  guide,  subject  to  one  of  the  under-kings  (who 
was  in  allegiance  to  England,  and  animated,  as  many  of 


HAKOLD.  285 

those  petty  chiefs  were,  with  a  vindictive  jealousy  against 
the  rival  tribe  of  Gryffyth,  far  more  intense  than  his 
dislike  of  the  Saxon),  led  the  way. 

The  road  wound  for  some  time  along  the  course  of  the 
river  Conway  ;  Penmaen-mawr  loomed  before  them.  Not 
a  human  being  came  in  sight,  not  a  goat  was  seen  on  the 
distant  ridges,  not  a  sheep  on  the  pastures.  The  solitude 
in  the  glare  of  the  broad  August  sun  was  oppressive.  Some 
houses  they  passed,  —  if  buildings  of  rough  stones,  con- 
taining but  a  single  room,  can  be  called  houses,  — but  they 
were  deserted.  Desolation  preceded  their  way,  for  they 
were  on  the  track  of  Harold  the  A^ictor.  At  length 
they  passed  the  old  Conovium,  now  Caer-hen,  lying  low 
near  the  river.  There  were  still  (not  as  we  now  scarcely 
discern  them,  after  centuries  of  havoc)  the  mighty  ruins 
of  the  Romans,  —  vast  shattered  walls,  a  tower  half 
demolished,  visible  remnants  of  gigantic  baths,  and, 
proudly  rising  near  the  present  ferry  of  Tal-y-Cafn,  the 
fortress,  almost  unrautilated  of  Castell-y-Bryn.  On  the 
castle  waved  the  pennon  of  Harold.  Many  large  flat- 
bottomed  boats  were  moored  to  the  river-side,  and  the 
whole  place  bristled  with  spears  and  javelins. 

Much  comforted  (for,  though  he  disdained  to  murmur, 
and  rather  than  forego  his  mail  would  have  died  therein 
a  martyr,  Mallet  de  Graville  was  mightily  wearied  by  the 
weight  of  his  steel),  and  hoping  now  to  see  Harold  him- 
self, the  knight  sprang  forwarti  with  a  spasmodic  effort  at 
liveliness,  and  found  himself  in  the  midst  of  a  group, 
among  whom  he  recognized  at  a  glance  his  old  acquaint- 
ance, Godrith.  Doffing  his  helm  with  its  long  nose-piece, 
he  caught  the  thegn's  hand,  and  exclaimed,  — 

"  Well  met,  ventre  de  Gxdllaume  !  well  met,  0  Godree 
the  debonair  !  Thou  rememberest  Mallet  de  Graville, 
and  in  this  unseemly  guise,  on  foot,  and  with  villeins, 


286  HAROLD. 

sweating  under  the  eyes  of  jilebeian  Phoebus,  thou  heholdest 
that  much-suffering  man  !  " 

"  Welcome,  indeed,"  returned  Godrith,  with  some 
embarrassment ;  "  but  how  earnest  thou  hither,  and  whom 
seekest  thou  1 " 

"  Harold  thy  count,  man,  —  and  I  trust  he  is  here." 

"  Not  so,  but  not  far  distant,  —  at  a  place  by  the  mouth 
of  the  river  called  Caer  Gyffin.^  Thou  shalt  take  boat, 
and  be  there  ere  the  sunset." 

"  Is  a  battle  at  hand  ?  Yon  churl  disappointed  and 
tricked  me  ;  he  promised  me  danger,  and  not  a  soul  have 
we  met." 

"  Harold's  besom  sweeps  clean,"  answered  Godrith, 
smiling ;  "  but  thou  art  like,  perhaps,  to  be  in  at  the 
death.  We  have  driven  this  Welsh  lion  to  bay  at  last, 
—  he  is  ours,  or  grim  Famine's.  Look  yonder  ; "  and 
Godrith  pointed  to  the  heights  of  Penmaen-mawr. 
"Even  at  this  distance  you  may  yet  descry  something 
gray  and  dim  against  the  sky." 

"  Deemest  thou  my  eye  so  ill-practised  in  siege,  as  not 
to  see  towers  ?  Tall  and  massive  they  are,  though  they 
seem  here  as  airy  as  masts,  and  as  dwarfish  as  landmarks." 

"  On  that  hill-top,  and  in  those  towers,  is  Gryffyth,  the 
Welsh  king,  with  the  last  of  his  force.  He  cannot  escape 
us  ;  our  ships  guard  all  the  coasts  of  the  shore  ;  our  troops, 
as  here,  surround  every  pass.  Spies,  night  and  day,  keep 
Avatch.  The  Welsh  moels  (or  beacon-rocks)  are  manned 
by  our  warders ;  and  were  the  Welsh  king  to  descend, 
signals  would  blaze  from  post  to  post,  and  gird  him  with 
fire  and  sword.  From  land  to  land,  from  hill  to  hill,  from 
Hereford  to  Caerleon,  from  Caerleon  to  Milford,  from 
Milford  to  Snowdon,  through  Snowdon  to  yonder  fort, 
built,  they  say,  by  the  fiends  or  the  giants,  —  through 
^  The  present  town  and  castle  of  Conway. 


HAEOLD.  287 

defile  and  through  forest,  over  rock,  tliroiigh  morass,  we 
have  pressed  on  his  heels.  Battle  and  foray  alike  have 
drawn  the  blood  from  his  heart ;  and  thou  wilt  have  seen 
the  drops  yet  red  on  the  way,  where  the  stone  tells  that 
Harold  was  victor." 

"  A  brave  man  and  true  king,  then,  this  Gryffyth," 
said  the  Norman,  with  some  admiration  ;  "  but,"  he  added 
in  a  colder  tone,  "  I  confess,  for  my  own  part,  that  though 
I  pity  the  valiant  man  beaten,  I  honor  the  brave  man  who 
wins  ;  and  though  I  have  seen  but  little  of  this  rough  land 
as  yet,  I  can  well  judge  from  what  I  have  seen,  that  no 
captain,  not  of  patience  unwearied  and  skill  most  consum- 
mate, could  conquer  a  bold  enemy  in  a  country  where 
every  rock  is  a  fort." 

"  So  I  fear,"  answered  Godrith,  "  that  thy  countryman 
Rolf  found ;  for  the  "Welsh  beat  him  sadly,  and  the 
reason  was  plain.  He  insisted  on  using  horses  where  no 
horses  could  climb,  and  attiring  men  in  full  armor  to  fight 
against  men  light  and  nimble  as  swallows,  that  skim  the 
earth,  then  are  lost  in  the  clouds.  Harold,  more  wise, 
turned  our  Saxons  into  Welshmen,  flying  as  they  flew, 
climbing  where  they  climbed  ;  it  has  been  as  a  war  of  the 
birds.  And  now  there  rests  but  the  eagle,  in  his  last 
lonely  eyrie." 

"  Thy  battles  have  improved  thy  eloquence  much, 
Messire  Godree,"  said  the  Norman,  condescendingly. 
"Nevertheless,  I  cannot  but  think  a  few  light  horse  —  " 

"  Could  scale  yon  mountain  brow  ] "  said  Godrith, 
laughing,  and  pointing  to  Penmaen-mawr. 

The  Norman  looked  and  was  silent,  though  he  thought 
to  himself,  "That  Sexwolf  was  no  such  dolt  after  all !" 


BOOK    VII. 


THE    WELSH    KING, 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  sun  had  just  cast  its  last  beams  over  the  breadth  of 
water  into  which  Conway,  or  rather  Cyn-wy,  "  the  great 
river,"  emerges  its  winding  waves.  Not  at  that  time 
existed  the  matchless  castle,  which  is  now  the  monument 
of  Edward  Plantagenet  and  the  boast  of  Wales.  But 
besides  all  the  beauty  the  spot  took  from  nature,  it  had 
even  some  claim  from  ancient  art.  A  rude  fortress  rose 
above  the  stream  of  Gyffin,  out  of  the  wrecks  of  some 
greater  Roman  hold,-'  and  vast  ruins  of  a  former  town  lay 
round  it  ;  wliile  opposite  the  fort,  on  the  huge  and 
ragged  promontory  of  Gogarth,  might  still  be  seen,  forlorn 
and  gray,  the  wrecks  of  the  imperial  city,  destroyed  ages 
before  by  lightning. 

All  these  remains  of  a  power  and  a  pomp  that  Rome 
in  vain  had  bequeathed  to  the  Briton,  were  full  of 
pathetic  and  solemn  interest,  when  blent  with  the 
thought,  that  on  yonder  steep  the  brave  prince  of  a  race 
of  heroes,  whose  line  transcended  by  ages  all  the  other 
royalties  of  the  Nortli,  awaited,  amidst  the  ruins  of  man, 
and  in  the  stronghold  which  nature  yet  gave,  the  hour 
of  his  doom. 

^  See  Camden's  Brittannia,  "  Caernarvonshire." 

VOL.  I. —  19 


290  HAROLD. 

But  these  were  not  the  sentiments  of  the  martial  and 
observant  Norman,  with  the  fresh  blood  of  a  new  race  of 
conquerors. 

"In  this  land,"  th night  he,  "far  more  even  than  in 
that  of  the  Saxon,  there  are  the  ruins  of  old ;  and  when 
the  present  can  neither  maintain  nor  repair  the  past,  its 
future  is  subjection  or  despair." 

Agreeably  to  the  peculiar  usages  of  Saxon  military 
skill,  which  seems  to  have  placed  all  strength  in  dykes 
and  ditches,  as  being  perhaps  the  cheapest  and  readiest 
outworks,  a  new  trench  had  been  made  round  tlie  fort  on 
two  sides,  connecting  it  on  the  third  and  fourth  with  the 
streams  of  Gyffin  and  the  Conway.  But  the  boat  was 
rowed  up  to  the  very  walls,  and  the  Norman,  springing 
to  land,  was  soon  ushered  into  the  presence  of  the  earl. 

Harold  was  seated  before  a  rude  table,  and  bending 
over  a  rough  map  of  the  great  mountain  of  Penmaen ; 
a  lamp  of  iron  stood  beside  the  map,  though  the  air  was 
yet  clear. 

The  earl  rose,  as  De  Graville,  entering  with  the  proud 
bxit  easy  grace  habitual  to  his  countrymen,  said,  in  his 
best  Saxon,  — 

"Hail  to  Earl  Harold!  William  Mallet  de  Graville, 
the  Norman,  greets  him  and  brings  him  news  from 
beyond   the  seas." 

There  Avas  only  one  seat  in  that  bare  room,  —  the  seat 
from  which  the  earl  had  risen.  He  placed  it  with  simple 
courtesy  before  his  visitor,  and,  leaning  himself  against 
the  table,  said,  in  the  Norman  tongue,  which  he  spoke 
fluently,  — 

"  It  is  no  slight  thanks  that  I  owe  to  the  Sire  de 
Graville,  that  he  hath  undertaken  voyage  and  journey  on 
my  behalf  ;  but  before  you  impart  your  news,  I  pray  you 
to  take  rest  and  food." 


HAROLD.  291 

"  Rest  will  not  be  unwelcome ;  and  food,  if  unre- 
stricted to  goat's  cheese  and  kid-flesh,  —  luxuries  new 
to  my  palate,  —  will  not  be  untempting ;  but  neither  food 
nor  rest  can  I  take,  noble  Harold,  before  I  excuse  myself, 
as  a  foreigner,  for  thus  somewhat  infringing  your  laws  by 
which  we  are  banished,  and  acknowledging  gratefully  the 
courteous  behavior  I  have  met  from  thy  countrymen 
notwithstanding." 

"  Fair  sir,"  answered  Harold,  "  pardon  us  if,  jealous  of 
our  laws,  we  have  seemed  inhospitable  to  those  who  would 
meddle  with  them.  But  the  Saxon  is  never  more  pleased 
than  when  the  foreigner  visits  him  only  as  the  friend  :  to 
the  many  who  settle  amongst  us  for  commerce,  —  Fleming, 
Lombard,  German,  and  Saracen,  —  we  proffer  shelter  and 
welcome  ;  to  the  few  who,  like  thee.  Sir  Norman,  venture 
over  the  seas  but  to  serve  us,  we  give  frank  cheer  and 
free  hand." 

Agreeably  surprised  at  this  gracious  reception  from  the 
son  of  Godwin,  the  Norman  pressed  the  hand  extended 
to  him,  and  then  drew  forth  a  small  case,  and  related 
accurately,  and  with  feeling,  the  meeting  of  his  cousin 
with  Sweyn,  and  Sweyn's  dying  charge. 

The  earl  listened,  with  eyes  bent  on  the  ground,  and 
face  turned  from  the  lamp ;  and  when  Mallet  had  con- 
cluded his  recital,  Harold  said,  with  an  emotion  he  strug- 
gled in  vain  to  repress,  — 

"  I  thank  you  cordially,  gentle  Norman,  for  kindness 
kindly  rendered  !  1  —  I  —  "  The  voice  faltered.  "  Sweyn 
was  very  dear  to  me  in  his  sorrows  1  We  heard  that  he 
had  died  in  Lycia,  and  grieved  much  and  long.  So,  after 
he  had  thus  spoken  to  your  cousin,  he  —  he  —  Alas  ! 
O  Sweyn,  my  brother  !  " 

"  He  died,"  said  the  Norman,  soothingly,  "  but  shriven 
and  absolved ;  and,  my  cousin  says,  calm  and  hopeful,  as 
they  die  ever  who  have  knelt  at  the  Saviour's  tomb  !  " 


292  HAROLD. 

Harold  bowed  his  head,  and  turned  the  case  that  held 
the  letter  again  and  again  in  his  hand,  but  would  not  ven- 
ture to  open  it.  The  knight  himself,  touched  by  a  grief 
so  simple  and  manly,  rose  with  the  delicate  instinct  that 
belongs  to  sympathy,  and  retired  to  the  door,  without 
■which  yet  waited  the  officer  who  had  conducted  him. 

Harold  did  not  attempt  to  detain  him,  but  followed  him 
across  the  threshold,  and  briefly  commanding  the  officer 
to  attend  to  his  guest  as  to  himself,  said,  "With  the 
morning,  Sire  de  Graville,  we  shall  meet  again  :  I  see 
that  you  are  one  to  whom  I  need  not  excuse  man's  natu- 
ral emotions." 

"  A  noble  presence  !  "  muttered  the  knight,  as  he  de- 
scended the  stairs ;  "  but  he  hath  Norman,  at  least  IS'orse 
blood  in  his  veins  on  the  distaff  side.  —  Fair  sir  !  "  — 
(this  aloud  to  the  officer)  —  "  any  meat  save  the  kid-flesh, 
I  pray  thee  ;  and  any  drink  save  the  mead  ! " 

"  Fear  not,  guest,"  said  the  officer  ;  "  for  Tostig  the 
Earl  hath  two  ships  in  yon  bay,  and  hath  sent  us  sup- 
plies that  would  please  Bishop  "William  of  London ;  for 
Tostig  the  Earl  is  a  toothsome  man." 

"  Commend  me,  then,  to  Tostig  the  Earl,"  said  the 
knight ;  "  he  is  an  earl  after  my  own  heart." 


HAROLD.  293 


CHAPTER   11. 

On  re-entering  the  room,  Harold  drew  the  large  holt 
across  the  door,  opened  the  case,  and  took  forth  the  dis- 
tained  and  tattered  scroll :  — 

"  When  this  comes  to  thee,  Harold,  the  brother  of  thy  child- 
ish days  will  sleep  in  the  flesh,  and  be  lost  to  men's  judgment 
and  earth's  woe  in  the  spirit.  I  have  knelt  at  the  Tomb  ;  but 
no  dove  hath  come  forth  from  the  cloud,  —  no  stream  of  grace 
hath  re-baptized  the  child  of  wrath  I  They  tell  me,  now  — 
monk  and  priest  tell  me  —  that  I  have  atoned  all  my  sins  ; 
that  the  dread  weregeld  is  paid  ;  that  I  may  enter  the  world 
of  men  with  a  spirit  free  from  the  load,  and  a  name  redeemed 
from  the  stain.  Think  so,  O  brother  !  —  Bid  my  father  (if  he 
still  lives  :  the  dear  old  man  !)  think  so  ;  —  tell  Gitlia  to 
think  it  ;  and  oh,  teach  Haco,  my  son,  to  hold  the  belief  as  a 
truth  !  Harold,  again  I  commend  to  thee  my  son  ;  be  to  him 
as  a  father !  My  death  surely  releases  him  as  a  hostage.  Let 
him  not  grow  up  in  the  court  of  the  stranger,  in  the  land  of 
our  foes.  Let  his  feet,  in  his  youth,  climb  the  green  holts  of 
England  ;  —  let  his  eyes,  ere  sin  dims  them,  drink  the  blue 
of  her  skies  !  When  this  shall  reach  thee,  thou,  in  thy  calm, 
effortless  strength,  wilt  be  more  great  than  Godwin  our  father. 
Power  came  to  him  with  travail  and  through  toil,  the  geld  of 
craft  and  of  force.  Power  is  born  to  thee  as  strength  to  the 
strong  man  ;  it  gathers  around  thee  as  thou  movest  ;  it  is  not 
thine  aim,  —  it  is  th}'  nature  to  be  great.  Shield  my  child 
with  thy  might  ;  lead  him  forth  from  the  prison-house  by  thy 
serene  right  hand !  I  ask  not  for  lordships  and  earldoms,  as 
the  appanage  of  his  father  ;  train  him  not  to  be  rival  to  thee  : 
—  I  ask  but  for  freedom  and  English  air  !  So  counting  on 
thee,  O  Harold,  I  turn  my  face  to  the  wall,  and  hush  my  wild 
heart  to  peace  !  " 


294  HAROLD. 

The  scroll  dropped  noiseless  from  Harold's  hand. 

"Thus,"  said  he,  mournfully,  "hath  passed  away  less  a 
life  than  a  dream  !  Yet  of  Sweyn,  in  our  childhood,  was 
Godwin  most  proud ;  who  so  lovely  in  peace,  and  so  terri- 
ble in  wrath  1  My  mother  taught  him  tlie  songs  of  the 
Baltic,  and  Hilda  led  his  steps  through  the  woodland 
with  tales  of  hero  and  scald.  Alone  of  our  House,  he 
had  the  gift  of  the  Dane  in  the  flow  of  fierce  song,  and 
for  him  things  lifeless  had  being.  Stately  tree,  from 
which  all  the  birds  of  heaven  sent  their  carol ;  where 
the  falcon  took  roost,  whence  the  mavis  flew  forth  in  its 
glee, —  how  art  thou  blasted  and  seared,  bough  and  core  ! 
—  smit  by  the  lightning  and  consumed  by  the  worm  !  " 

He  paused,  and,  though  none  were  by,  he  long  shaded 
his  brow  with  his  hand. 

"Now,"  thought  he,  as  he  rose  and  slowly  paced  the 
chamber,  "now  to  what  lives  yet  on  earth,  —  his  son'. 
Often  hath  my  mother  urged  me  in  behalf  of  these  hos- 
tages; and  often  have  I  sent  to  reclaim  them.  Smooth 
and  false  pretexts  have  met  my  own  demand,  and  even 
the  remonstrance  of  Edward  himself.  But  surely,  now 
that  William  hath  permitted  this  Norman  to  bring  over 
the  letter,  he  will  assent  to  what  it  hath  become  a  wrong 
and  an  insult  to  refuse  ;  and  Haco  will  return  to  his 
father's  land,  and  Wolnoth  to  his  mother's  arms. 


HAKOLD.  295 


CHAPTER   III. 

Mr.ssiRE  Mallet  de  Graville  (as  becomes  a  man  bred 
lip  to  arms,  and  snatching  sleep  with  quick  grasp  when- 
ever that  blessing  be  his  to  command)  no  sooner  laid  his 
head  on  the  pallet  to  which  he  had  been  consigned,  than 
his  eyes  closed,  and  his  senses  were  deaf  even  to  dreams. 
But  at  the  dead  of  the  midnight  he  was  wakened  by 
sounds  that  might  have  roused  the  Seven  Sleepers,  — 
shouts,  cries,  and  yells,  the  blast  of  horns,  the  tramp  of 
feet,  and  the  more  distant  roar  of  hurrying  multitudes. 
He  leaped  from  his  bed,  and  the  whole  chamber  was  filled 
with  a  lurid  blood-red  air.  His  first  thought  was  that  the 
fort  was  on  fire.  But,  springing  upon  the  settle  along 
the  wall,  and  looking  through  the  loophole  of  the  tower,  it 
seemed  as  if  not  the  fort,  but  the  whole  land  was  one 
flame,  and  through  the  glowing  atmosphere  he  beheld  all 
the  ground,  near  and  far,  swarming  with  men.  Hundreds 
were  swimming  the  rivulet,  clambering  up  dyke-mounds, 
rushing  on  the  levelled  spears  of  the  defenders,  breaking 
through  line  and  palisade,  pouring  into  the  enclosures  : 
some  in  half-armor  of  helm  and  corselet,  others  in  linen 
tunics,  —  many  almost  naked.  Loud,  sharp  shrieks  of 
"Alleluia!"^  blended  with  those  of  "Out!    out!  Holy 

1  When  (a.  d.  220)  the  bishops,  Gerinanicus  and  Lupus,  headed 
tlie  Britons  against  the  Picts  and  Saxons,  in  Easter  week,  fresh 
from  their  baptism  iu  the  Alyn,  Germanicus  ordered  them  ^o 
attend  to  his  war-cry,  and  repeat  it ;  lie  gave  "  Alleluia  "  The 
hills  so  loudly  re-echoed  the  cry,  that  the  enemy  caught  panic,  and 
fied  with  great  slaughter.  Maes  Garmou,  in  Flintshire,  was  the 
Bcene  of  the  victory. 


296  HAROLD. 

crosse  ! "  ^  He  divined  at  once  tliat  the  Welsh  were 
storming  the  Saxon  hold.  Short  time  indeed  sufficed  for 
tliat  active  knight  to  case  liimself  in  his  mail ;  and,  sword 
in  liaud,  he  burst  through  the  door,  cleared  the  stairs,  and 
gained  the  hall  below,  which  was  tilled  with  men  arming 
in  haste. 

"  Where  is  Harold  1 "  he  exclaimed. 

"  On  the  trenches  already,"  answered  Sexwolf,  buckling 
his  corselet  of  hide.      "This  Welsh  hell  hath  broke  loose." 

"  And  yon  are  their  beacon-fires  1  Then  the  whole  land 
is  upon  us  !  " 

"  Prate  less,"  quoth  Sexwolf;  "those  are  tlie  hills  now 
held  b}^  the  warders  of  Harold  :  our  spies  gave  them 
notice,  and  the  watchfires  prepared  us  ere  the  fiends  came 
in  sight,  otherwise  we  had  been  lying  here  limbless  or 
headless.     Now,  men,  draw  up,  and  march  forth." 

"  Hold  !  hold  !  "  cried  the  pious  knight,  crossing  him- 
self, "  is  there  no  priest  here  to  bless  us  1  first  a  prayer 
and  a  psalm  !  " 

"  Prayer  and  psalm  !  "  cried  Sexwolf,  astonished,  "an 
thou  hadst  said  ale  and  mead,  I  could  have  understood 
thee. —  Out !     Out  !  —  Holyrood,  Holyrood  !  " 

"  The  godless  paynims  !  "  muttered  the  Norman,  borne 
away  with  the  crowd. 

Once  in  the  open  space,  the  scene  was  terrific.  Brief 
as  had  been  the  onslauglit,  the  carnage  was  already 
unspeakable.  By  dint  of  sheer  physical  numbers,  ani- 
mated by  a  valor  that  seemed  as  tlie  frenzy  of  madmen 

1  The  cry  of  the  English  at  the  onset  of  battle  was  "  Holy 
Crosse,  God  Alniightj^ ;  "  afterwards,  in  fight,  "  Ouct,  ouct,"  out, 
out. —  Hearnes'  "  Disc.  Antiquity  of  Motts. " 

The, latter  cry  probably  originated  in  the  habit  of  defending  their 
standard  and  central  posts  with  barricades  and  closed  shields;  and 
thus,  idiomatically  and  vulgarly,  signified  "get  out" 


HAROLD,  297 

or  the  hunger  of  wolves,  hosts  of  the  Britons  had  crossed 
trench  aud  stream,  seizing  with  their  hands  the  points  of 
the  spears  opposed  to  them,  bounding  over  the  corpses  of 
their  countrymen,  and,  with  yells  of  wild  joy,  rushing 
upon  the  close  serried  lines  drawn  up  before  the  fort. 
Tiie  stream  seemed  literally  to  run  gore ;  pierced  by 
javelins  and  arrows,  corpses  floated  and  vanished,  while 
numbers,  undeterred  by  tlie  havoc,  leaped  into  the  waves 
from  the  opposite  banks.  Like  bears  that  surround  the 
ship  of  a  sea-king  beneath  the  polar  meteors,  or  the  mid- 
night sun  of  the  north,  came  the  savage  warriors  through 
tliat  glaring  atmosphere. 

Amidst  all,  two  forms  were  pre-eminent  :  the  one,  tall 
and  towering,  stood  by  the  trench,  and  behind  a  banner, 
that  now  drooped  round  the  stave,  now  streamed  wide 
and  broad,  stirred  by  the  rush  of  men,  —  for  the  night  in 
itself  was  breezeless.  With  a  vast  Danish  axe,  wielded 
by  both  hands,  stood  this  man  coiifronting  hundreds,  and 
at  each  stroke,  rapid  as  the  levin,  fell  a  foe.  All  round 
him  was  a  wall  of  his  own, — the  dead.  But  in  the 
centre  of  the  space,  leading  on  a  fresh  troop  of  shouting 
Welslimen,  who  had  forced  their  way  from  another  part, 
was  a  form  which  seemed  charmed  against  arrow  and 
spear.  For  the  defensive  arms  of  this  chief  were  as 
slight  as  if  worn  but  for  ornament  :  a  small  corselet  of 
gold  covered  only  the  centre  of  his  breast,  a  gold  collar  of 
twisted  wires  circled  his  throat,  and  a  gold  bracelet 
adorned  his  bare  arm,  dropping  gore,  not  his  own,  from 
the  wrist  to  the  elbow.  He  was  small  and  slight-shaped, 
—  below  the  common  standard  of  men,  —  but  he  seemed  as 
one  made  a  giant  by  the  sublime  inspiration  of  war.  He 
wore  no  helmet,  merely  a  golden  circlet ;  and  his  hair,  of 
deep  red  (longer  than  was  usual  with  the  Welsh),  hung 
like  the  mane  of  a  lion  over  his  shoulders,  tossing  loose 


298  HAROLD. 

with  each  stride.  His  eyes  glared  like  the  tiger's  at 
night,  and  he  leaped  on  the  spears  with  a  bound.  Lost  a 
moment  amidst  hostile  ranks,  save  by  the  swift  glitter  of 
his  short  sword,  he  made,  amidst  all,  a  path  for  himself 
and  his  followers,  and  emerged  from  the  heart  of  the 
steel  unscathed  and  loud-breathing ;  while,  round  the 
line  he  had  broken,  wheeled  and  closed  his  wild  men, 
striking,  rushing,  slaying,  slain. 

"  Pardex,  this  is  war  worth  the  sharing,"  said  the 
knight.  "  And  now,  worthy  Sexwolf,  thou  shalt  see  if 
the  Norman  is  the  vaunter  tliuu  deemest  him.  Dieu 
nous  aide!  Notre  Dame  ! — Take  the  foe  in  the  rear." 
But  turning  round,  he  perceived  that  Sexwolf  liad  al- 
ready led  his  men  towards  the  standard,  which  showed 
them  where  stood  the  earl,  almost  alone  in  his  peril. 
The  knight,  thus  left  to  himself,  did  not  hesitate  :  —  a 
minute  more,  and  he  was  in  the  midst  of  the  Welsh  force, 
headed  by  the  chief  with  the  golden  panoply.  Secure  in 
bis  ring  mail  against  the  light  weapons  of  the  Welsh,  the 
sweep  of  the  ISTorman  sword  was  as  the  scythe  of  Death. 
Right  and  left  he  smote  through  the  throng  which  he 
took  in  the  flank,  and  had  almost  gained  the  small 
phalanx  of  Saxons  that  lay  firm  in  the  midst,  when  the 
Cymrian  chief's  flashing  eye  was  drawn  to  this  new  and 
strange  foe  by  the  roar  and  the  groan  round  the  Norman's 
way  ;  and  with  the  half-naked  breast  against  the  shirt  of 
mail,  and  the  short  Roman  sword  against  the  long 
Norman  falchion,  the  Lion  King  of  Wales  fronted  the 
knigiit. 

Unequal  as  seems  the  encounter,  so  quick  was  the 
spring  of  the  Briton,  so  pliant  his  arm,  and  so  rapid 
bis  weapon,  that  that  good  knight  (who,  rather  from 
skill  and  valor  than  brute  physical  strength,  ranked 
amongst  theprowest  of  William's  band  of  martial  brothers) 


HAROLD.  299 

would  willingly  have  preferred  to  see  before  him  Fitzos- 
borne  or  Montgommeri,  all  clad  in  steel  and  armed  with 
mace  and  lance,  than  parried  those  dazzling  strokes,  and 
fronted  the  angry  majesty  of  that  helmless  brow.  Already 
the  strong  rings  of  his  mail  had  been  twice  pierced,  and 
his  blood  trickled  fast,  while  his  great  sword  had  but 
smitten  the  air  in  its  sweeps  at  the  foe ;  when  the  Saxon 
phalanx,  taking  advantage  of  the  breach  in  the  ring  that 
girt  them  caused  by  this  diversion,  and  recognizing  with 
fierce  ire  the  gold  torque  and  breastplate  of  the  Welsh 
king,  made  their  desperate  charge.  Then  for  some 
minutes  tlie/y^/<?  viele  was  confused  and  indistinct :  blows 
blind  and  at  random,  death  coming  no  man  knew  whence 
or  how ;  till  discipline  and  steadfast  order  (which  the 
Saxons  kept,  as  by  mechanism,  through  the  discord) 
obstinately  prevailed.  The  wedge  forced  its  way  ;  and 
though  reduced  in  numbers  and  sore  wounded,  the  Saxon 
troop  cleared  the  ring,  and  joined  the  main  force  drawn 
up  by  the  fort,  and  guarded  in  the  rear  by  its  wall. 

Meanwhile  Harold,  supported  by  the  band  under 
Sexwolf,  had  succeeded  at  length  in  repelling  farther 
reinforcements  of  the  Welsh  at  the  more  accessible  part 
of  the  trenches  ;  and,  casting  now  his  practised  eye  over 
the  field,  he  issued  orders  for  some  of  tlie  meji  to  re- 
gain the  fort,  and  open  from  the  battlements  and  from 
every  loophole  the  batteries  of  stone  and  javelin,  whicli 
then  (with  the  Saxons,  unskilled  in  sieges)  formed  the 
main  artillery  of  forts.  These  orders  given,  he  planted 
Sexwolf  and  most  of  his  band  to  keep  watch  round  the 
trenches  ;  and,  shading  his  eye  with  his  hand,  and  look- 
ing towards  the  moon,  all  waning  and  dimmed  in  the 
watchfires,  he  said,  calmly,  '•  Now  patience  fights  for  us. 
Ere  the  moon  reaches  yon  hill-top,  the  troops  at  Aber 
and  Caer-hen  will  be  on  the  slopes  of  Penmaen,  and  cut 


300  HAROLD. 

ofi'  the  retreat  of  tlie  Walloons.  Advance  my  flag  to  tlie 
thick  of  you  strife." 

But  as  tiie  earl,  with  his  axe  swung  over  his  shoulder, 
and  followed  but  by  some  half-score  or  more  with  his 
banner,  strode  on  where  the  wild  war  was  now  mainly 
concentred,  just  midway  between  trench  and  fort,  Gryffyth 
caught  sight  both  of  the  banner  and  the  earl,  and  left  the 
])r(!ss  at  the  very  moment  when  he  hatl  gained  the  greatest 
advantage;  and  when,  indeed,  but  for  the  Norman,  wlio, 
wounded  as  he  was,  and  unused  to  fight  on  foot,  stood 
resolute  in  the  van,  the  Saxons,  wearied  out  by  numbers, 
and  falling  fast  beneath  the  javelins,  would  have  fled  into 
their  walls,  and  so  sealed  their  fate,  —  for  the  Welsh 
would  have  entered  at  their  heels. 

But  it  was  the  misfortune  of  tiie  Welsh  heroes  never  to 
learn  that  war  is  a  science  ;  and  instead  of  now  centring 
all  force  on  the  point  most  weakened,  the  whole  field 
vanished  from  the  fierce  eye  of  the  Welsh  king  when  he 
saw  the  banner  and  form  of  Harold. 

The  earl  beheld  the  coming  foe,  wheeling  round,  as 
the  hawk  on  the  heron  ;  halted,  drew  up  his  few  men  in 
a  semicircle,  with  their  large  shields  as  a  rampart,  and 
their  levelled  spears  as  a  palisade  ;  and  before  them  all, 
as  a  tower,  stood  Harold  with  his  axe.  In  a  minute  more 
he  was  surrounded  ;  and  through  the  rain  of  javelins  that 
poured  upon  him,  hissed  and  glittered  the  sword  of 
Gryffyth.  But  Harold,  more  practised  than  the  Sire  de 
Graville  in  the  sword-play  of  the  Welsh,  and  i;nencum- 
bered  by  otlier  defensive  armor  (save  only  the  helm, 
wliich  was  shaped  like  the  Norman's)  than  his  light  coat 
of  hide,  opposed  quickness  to  quickness,  and,  suddenly 
dropping  his  axe,  sprang  upon  his  foe,  and  clasping  him 
round  with  the  left  arm,  with  the  right  hand  griped  at 
his  throat,  — 


HAROLD.  301 

"  Yield,  and  quarter  !  —  yield,  for  thy  life,  son  of 
Llewellyn  !  " 

Strong  was  that  embrace,  and  deathlike  that  gripe,  yet, 
as  the  snake  from  the  hand  of  the  dervise,  as  a  ghost  from 
the  grasp  of  the  dreamer,  the  lithe  Cymrian  glided  away, 
and  the  broken  torque  was  all  that  remained  in  the  clutch 
of  Harold. 

At  this  moment  a  mighty  yell  of  despair  broke  from 
the  Welsh  near  the  fort :  stones  and  javelins  rained  upon 
them  from  the  walls,  and  the  fierce  Norman  was  in  the 
midst,  with  his  sword  drinking  blood  ;  but  not  for  jave- 
lin, stone,  and  sword,  shrank  and  shouted  the  Welshman. 
On  the  other  side  of  the  trenches  were  marching  against 
tliem  their  own  countrymen,  the  rival  tribes  that  helped 
the  stranger  to  rend  the  land  ;  and  far  to  the  right  were 
seen  the  spears  of  the  Saxon  from  Aber,  and  to  the  left 
was  heard  the  shout  of  the  forces  under  Godrith  from 
Caer-hen  ;  and  they  who  had  sought  the  leopard  in  his 
lair  were  now  themselves  the  prey  caught  in  the  toils. 
With  new  heart,  as  they  beheld  these  reinforcements,  the 
Saxons  pressed  on ;  tumult,  and  flight,  and  indiscriminate 
slaughter,  wrapped  the  field.  The  Welsh  rushed  to  the 
stream  and  the  trenches  ;  and  in  the  bustle  and  hurlaba- 
loo,  Gryffyth  was  swept  along,  as  a  bull  by  a  torrent  ; 
still  facing  the  foe,  now  chiding,  now  smiting  his  own 
men,  now  rushing  alone  on  the  pursuers,  and  halting  their 
onslaught,  he  gained,  still  unwounded,  the  stream,  paused 
a  moment,  laughed  loud,  and  sprang  into  the  wave.  A 
hundred  javelins  hissed  into  the  sullen  and  bloody  waters. 
"  Hold  !  "  cried  Harold  the  Earl,  lifting  his  hand  on  high, 
"  no  dastard  dart  at  the  brave  !  " 


o 


02  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  fugitive  Britons,  scarce  one-tenth  of  the  number  that 
had  first  rushed  to  the  attack,  performed  their  flight  with 
the  same  Parthian  rapidity  that  cliaracterized  the  assault  ; 
and,  escaping  both  Welsh  foe  and  Saxon,  though  the 
former  broke  ground  to  pursue  them,  they  regained  the 
steeps  of  Penmaen. 

There  was  no  further  thought  of  slumber  that  night 
■within  the  walls.  While  the  wounded  were  tended,  and 
the  dead  were  cleared  from  the  soil,  Harold,  with  three  of 
his  chiefs,  and  Mallet  de  Graville,  whose  feats  rendered  it 
more  than  ungracious  to  refuse  his  request  that  he  might 
assist  in  the  council,  conferred  upon  the  means  of  termi- 
nating the  war  with  the  next  day.  Two  of  the  thegns, 
their  blood  hot  with  strife  and  revenge,  proposed  to  scale 
the  mountain  with  the  Avhole  force  the  reinforcements 
had  brought  them,  and  put  all  they  found  to  the  sword. 

The  third,  old  and  prudent,  and  inured  to  Welsh  war- 
fare, thought  otherwise. 

"  None  of  us,"  said  he,  "  know  what  is  the  true  strength 
of  the  place  which  ye  propose  to  storm.  Not  even  one 
Welshman  have  we  found  who  hath  ever  himself  gained 
the  summit,  or  examined  the  castle  which  is  said  to  exist 
there."  ^ 

"  Said  !  "  echoed  De  Graville,  who,  relieved  of  his  mail, 
and  with  his  wounds  bandaged,  reclined   on  his  furs  on 

1  Certain  high  places  in  Wales,  of  which  this  might  well  he  one, 
were  held  so  sacred  that  even  the  dwellers  in  the  immediate  neigh- 
borhood never  presumed  to  approach  them. 


HAROLD.  303 

the  floor.  "  Said,  noble  sir !  Cannot  our  eyes  perceive 
the  towers  1 " 

The  old  thegu  shook  his  head.  "  At  a  distance,  and 
through  mists,  stones  loom  large,  and  crags  themselves 
take  strange  shapes.  It  may  be  castle,  may  be  rock,  may 
be  old  roofless  temples  of  heathenesse  that  we  see.  But 
to  repeat  (and,  as  I  am  slow,  I  pray  not  again  to  be  put 
out  in  my  speech),  —  none  of  us  know  what,  there,  exists 
of  defence,  man-made  or  Nature-built.  Not  even  thy 
Welsh  spies,  son  of  Godwin,  have  gained  to  the  heights. 
In  the  midst  lie  the  scouts  of  the  Welsh  king,  and  those 
on  the  top  can  see  the  bird  fly,  the  goat  climb.  Few  of 
thy  spies,  indeed,  have  ever  returned  with  life ;  their 
heads  have  been  left  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  with  the  scroll 
in  their  lips,  *  Die  ad  inferos,  —  quid  in  superis  novisti.'' 
Tell  to  the  shades  below  what  thou  hast  seen  in  the 
heiglits  above." 

"  And  the  Walloons  know  Latin ! "  muttered  the 
knight ;  "  I  respect  them  !  " 

The  slow  thegn  frowned,  stammered,  and  renewed, — 

"  One  thing  at  least  is  clear ;  that  the  rock  is  wellnigh 
insurmountable  to  those  who  know  not  the  passes  ;  that 
strict  watch,  baffling  even  Welsh  spies,  is  kept  night  and 
day ;  that  the  men  on  the  summit  are  desperate  and 
fierce  ;  that  our  own  troops  are  awed  and  terrified  by  the 
belief  of  the  Welsh,  that  the  spot  is  haunted  and  the 
towers  fiend-founded.  One  single  defeat  may  lose  us  two 
years  of  victory.  Gryflfyth  may  break  from  the  eyrie, 
regain  what  be  hath  lost,  win  back  our  Welsh  allies,  ever 
faithless  and  hollow.  Wherefore  I  say.  Go  on  as  we  have 
begun.  Beset  all  the  country  round  ;  cut  off  all  supplies, 
and  let  the  foe  rot  by  famine  —  or  waste,  as  he  hatli  done 
this  night,  his  strength  by  vain  (onslaught  and  sally." 

"  Thy  counsel  is  good,"  said  Harold,  "  but  there  is  yet 


304  HAEOLD. 

something  to  add  to  it,  which  may  shorten  the  strife,  and 
gain  the  end  with  less  sacrifice  of  life.  The  defeat  of 
to-night  will  have  humbled  the  spirits  of  the  Welsh  ;  take 
them  yet  in  the  hour  of  despair  and  disaster.  I  wish, 
therefore,  to  send  to  their  outposts  a  nuncius,  with  these 
terms —  *  Life  and  pardon  to  all  who  lay  down  arms  and 
surrender.'  " 

"  What !  after  such  havoc  and  gore  1  "  cried  one  of  the 
thegns. 

"  They  defend  their  own  soil,"  replied  the  earl,  simply  : 
"  had  not  we  done  the  same  1 " 

"But  the  rebel  Gryffyth  1"  asked  the  old  thegn, 
"  thou  canst  not  accept  him  again  as  crowned  sub-king  of 
Edward  1 " 

"  No,"  said  the  earl,  "  I  propose  to  exempt  Gryfifyth 
alone  from  the  pardon,  with  promise,  nathless,  of  life,  if 
he  give  himself  up  as  prisoner  ;  and  count,  without  fur- 
ther condition,  on  the  king's  mercy."  Tliere  was  a  pro- 
longed silence.  None  spoke  against  the  earl's  proposal, 
though  the  two  younger  thegns  misliked  it  much. 

At  last  said  the  elder,  "  But  hast  thou  tliought  wlio 
will  carry  this  message  1  Fierce  and  wild  are  yon  blood- 
dogs  ;  and  man  must  needs  shrive  soul  and  make  will  if 
he  go  to  their  kennel." 

"  I  feel  sure  that  my  bode  will  be  safe,"  answered. 
Harold  ;  "  for  Gryffyth  has  all  the  pride  of  a  king,  and, 
sparing  neither  man  nor  child  in  the  onslaught,  will  re- 
spect what  the  Roman  taught  his  sires  to  respect,  —  envoy 
from  chief  to  chief,  —  as  a  head  scathless  and  sacred." 

"  Choose  whom  thou  wilt,  Haiold,"  said  one  of  the 
young  thegns,  laughing,  "  but  spare  thy  friends ;  and 
whomsoever  thou  choosest,  pay  his  widow  the  weregeld." 

"  Fair  sirs,"  then  said  De  Graville,  "  if  ye  think  that 
I,  though  a  stranger,  could  serve  you  as  nuncius,  it  would 


HAKOLD.  305 

be  a  pleasure  to  me  to  undertake  tliis  mission.  First. 
because,  being  curious  as  concerns  forts  and  castles,  I 
would  fain  see  if  mine  eyes  have  deceived  me  in  taking 
yon  towers  for  a  hold  of  great  might.  Secondly,  because 
that  same  wild-cat  of  a  king  must  have  a  court  rare  to 
visit.  And  the  only  reflection  tliat  withholds  my  press- 
ing the  offer  as  a  personal  suit  is,  that,  though  I  have 
some  words  of  the  Breton  jargon  at  my  tongue's  need,  I 
cannot  pretend  to  be  a  Tully  in  Welsh  ;  howbeit,  since  it 
seems  that  one,  at  least,  among  them  knows  something  of 
Latin,  I  doubt  not  but  what  I  shall  get  out  my  meaning  !" 

"  Nay,  as  to  that,  Sire  de  Graville,"  said  Harold,  who 
seemed  well  pleased  with  the  knight's  offer,  "  there  shall 
be  no  hindrance  or  let,  as  I  will  make  clear  to  you  ;  and 
in  spite  of  what  you  have  just  heard,  Gryffyth  shall  harm 
you  not  in  limb  or  in  life.  But,  kindly  and  courteous 
sir,  will  your  wounds  permit  the  journey,  not  long,  but 
steep  and  laborious,  and  only  to  be  made  on  foot  1 " 

"  On  foot !  "  said  the  knight,  a  little  staggered.  "  Par- 
dex  !  well  and  truly,  I  did  not  count  upon  that  !  " 

"  Enough,"  said  Harold,  turning  away  in  evident  disap- 
pointment ;  "  think  of  it  no  more." 

"  Nay,  by  your  leave,  what  I  have  once  said  I  stand 
to,"  returned  the  knight ;  "  albeit,  you  may  as  well  cleave 
in  two  one  of  those  respectable  centaurs  of  which  we  have 
read  in  our  youth,  as  part  Norman  and  horse.  I  will 
forthwith  go  to  my  chamber,  and  apparel  myself  becom- 
ingly, —  not  forgetting,  in  case  of  the  worst,  to  wear  my 
mail  under  my  robe.  Vouchsafe  me  but  an  armorer,  just 
to  rivet  up  the  rings  through  which  scratched  so  felinely 
the  paw  of  that  well-appelled  Griffin^ 

"  I  accept  your  offer  frankly,"  said  Harold,  "  and  all 
shall  be  prepared  for  you,  as  soon  as  you  yourself  will 
reseek  me  here." 

VOL.  I.  —  20 


306  HAROLD. 

The  knight  rose,  and  though  somewhat  stiff,  and  smart- 
ing with  his  wounds,  left  the  room  lightly,  summoned  his 
armorer  and  squire,  and,  having  dressed  with  all  the  care 
and  pomp  habitual  to  a  Norman,  liis  gold  chain  round  his 
neck,  and  his  vest  stiff  with  broidery,  he  re-entered  the 
apartment  of  Harold.  The  earl  received  him  alone,  and 
came  up  to  him  with  a  cordial  face.  ''  I  thank  thee  more, 
brave  Norman,  than  I  ventured  to  say  before  my  thegns, 
for  I  tell  thee  frankly  that  my  intent  and  aim  are  to  save 
the  life  of  this  brave  king  ;  and  thou  canst  well  under- 
stand that  every  Saxon  amongst  us  must  have  his  blood 
warmed  by  contest,  and  his  eyes  blind  with  national  hate. 
You  alone,  as  a  stranger,  see  the  valiant  warrior  and 
hunted  prince,  and  as  such  you  can  feel  for  him  the  noble 
pity  of  manly  foes." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  De  Graville,  a  little  surprised, 
"though  we  Normans  are  at  least  as  fierce  as  you  Saxons, 
when  we  have  once  tasted  blood  ;  and  I  own  nothing 
would  please  me  better  than  to  dress  that  catamaran  in 
mail,  put  a  spear  in  its  claws,  and  a  horse  under  its  legs, 
and  thus  fight  out  my  disgrace  at  being  so  clawed  and 
mauled  by  its  griffes.  And.  though  I  respect  a  brave 
knight  in  distress,  I  can  scarce  extend  my  compassion  to 
a  thing  that  fights  against  all  rule,  martial  and  kingly." 

The  earl  smiled  gravely.  "  It  is  the  mode  in  which 
his  ancestors  rushed  on  the  spears  of  Cfesar.    Pardon  him." 

"  I  pardon  him  at  j'-our  gracious  request,"  quoth  the 
knight,  with  a  grand  air,  and  waving  his  hands  ;  "  say  on." 

"  You  will  proceed  with  a  Welsh  monk  —  whom,  though 
not  of  the  faction  of  Gryffyth,  all  Welshmen  respect  —  to 
the  mouth  of  a  frightful  pass,  skirting  the  river  ;  the 
monk  will  bear  aloft  the  holy  rood  in  signal  of  peace. 
Arrived  at  that  pass,  you  will  doubtless  be  stopped.  The 
monk  here  will  be  spokesman,  and  ask  safe-conduct   to 


HAROLD.  307 

Gryffyth  to  deliver  my  message ;  he  will  also  bear  certain 
tokens,  which  will  no  doubt  win  the  way  for  you. 

"Arrived  before  Grytfyth,  the  monk  will  accost  him; 
mark  and  iieed  well  his  gestures,  since  thou  wilt  know  not 
the  Welsh  tongue  he  employs.  And  when  he  raises  the 
rood,  thou —  in  the  mean  while  having  artfully  approached 
close  to  Gryffyth  —  wilt  whisper  in  Saxon,  which  he  well 
understands,  and  pressing  the  ring  I  now  give  thee  into 
his  hand,  '  Obey  by  this  pledge  ;  thou  knowest  Harold  is 
true,  and  thy  head  is  sold  by  thine  own  people.'  If  he 
asks  more,  thou  knowest  nought." 

"  So  far,  this  is  as  should  be  from  chief  to  chief,"  said 
the  Norman,  touched,  "  and  thus  had  Fitzosborne  done 
to  his  foe.  I  thank  thee  for  this  mission,  and  the  more 
that  thou  hast  not  asked  me  to  note  the  strength  of  the 
bulwark,  and  number  the  men  that  may  keep  it." 

Again  Harold  smiled.  "  Praise  me  not  for  this,  noble 
Norman,  —  we  plain  Saxons  have  not  your  refinements. 
If  ye  are  led  to  the  summit,  which  I  think  ye  will  not  be, 
the  monk  at  least  will  have  eyes  to  see  and  tongue  to 
relate.  But  to  thee  I  confide  this  much  ;  —  I  know,  al- 
ready, that  Grytfyth's  strongholds  are  not  his  walls  and 
his  towers,  but  the  superstition  of  our  men  and  the  despair 
of  his  own.  I  could  win  those  heights,  as  I  have  won 
heights  as  cloudcapt,  but  with  fearful  loss  of  my  own 
troops,  and  the  massacre  of  every  foe.  Both  I  would 
spare,  if  I  may." 

"  Yet  thou  hast  not  shown  such  value  for  life  in  the 
solitudes  I  passed,"  said  the  knight,  bluntly. 

Harold  turned  pale,  but  said  firmly,  "  Sire  de  Gravilie, 
a  stern  thing  is  duty,  and  resistless  is  its  voice.  These 
Welshmen,  unless  curbed  to  their  mountains,  eat  into  the 
strength  of  England,  as  the  tide  gnaws  into  a  shore.  Mer- 
ciless were  they  in  their  ravages   on   our   borders,  and 


308  HAIIOLD. 

ghastly  and  torturing  their  fell  revenge.  But  it  is  one 
thing  to  grapple  with  a  foe  fierce  and  strong,  and  another 
to  smite  when  his  power  is  gone,  fang  and  talon.  And 
when  I  see  before  me  the  fated  king  of  a  great  race,  and 
the  last  band  of  doomed  heroes,  too  few  and  too  feeble  to 
make  head  against  my  arms,  —  when  the  laud  is  already 
my  own,  and  tlie  sword  is  that  of  the  deathsman,  not  of 
the  warrior,  —  verily,  Sir  Norman,  duty  releases  its  iron 
tool,  and  man  becomes  man  again." 

"  I  go,"  said  the  Norman,  inclining  his  head  low  as  to 
his  own  great  duke,  and  turning  to  the  door ;  yet  there  he 
paused,  and  looki]ig  at  the  ring  which  he  had  placed  on 
his  finger,  he  said,  "but  one  word  more,  if  not  indiscreet, 
—  your  answer  may  help  argument,  if  argument  be 
needed.     What  tale  lies  hid  in  this  token  ]  " 

Harold  colored  and  paused  a  moment,  then  answered,  — 

"  Simply  this :  Gryffyth's  wife,  the  lady  Aldyth,  a 
Saxon  by  birth,  fell  into  my  hands.  We  were  storming 
Ehadlan,  at  the  farther  end  of  the  isle;  she  was  there. 
We  war  not  against  women ;  I  feared  the  license  of  my 
own  soldiers,  and  I  sent  the  lady  to  Gryffyth.  Aldyth 
gave  me  this  ring  on  parting  ;  and  I  bade  her  tell  Gryffyth 
that  whenever,  at  the  hour  of  his  last  peril  and  sorest 
need,  I  sent  that  ring  back  to  him,  he  might  hold  it  the 
pledge  of  his  life." 

"  Is  this  lady,  think  you,  in  the  stronghold  with  her 
lord  1 " 

"  I  am  not  sure,  but  I  fear  yes,"  answered  Harold. 

"  Yet  one  word :  And  if  Gryffyth  refuse,  despite  all 
warning  1 " 

Harold's  eyes  drooped. 

"If  so,  he  dies;  but  not  by  the  Saxon  sword.  God 
and  our  lady  speed  you  ! " 


HAROLD.  309 


CHAPTER  Y. 

On  the  height  called  Pen-y-Dinas  (or  "  Head  of  the 
City  "),  forming  one  of  the  summits  of  Benmaen-mawr, 
and  in  the  heart  of  that  supposed  fortress  which  no 
eye  in  the  Saxon  camp  had  surveyed,  reclined  GryfFyth, 
the  hunted  king.  Nor  is  it  marvellous  that  at  that 
day  there  should  be  disputes  as  to  the  nature  and 
strength  of  the  supposed  bulwark,  since,  in  times  the 
most  recent,  and  among  antiquaries  the  most  learned, 
the  greatest  discrepancies  exist,  not  only  as  to  theoreti- 
cal opinion,  but  plain  matter  of  observation  and  simple 
measurement.  The  place,  however,  I  need  scarcely  say, 
was  not  as  we  see  it  now,  with  its  foundations  of  gigantic 
ruin,  affording  ample  space  for  conjecture  ;  yet,  even  then 
a  wreck  as  of  Titans,  its  date  and  purpose  were  lost  in 
remote  antiquity. 

The  central  area  (in  which  the  Welsh  king  now  re- 
clined) formed  an  oval  barrow  of  loose  stones  ;  whether 
so  left  from  the  origin,  or  the  relics  of  some  vanished 
building,  was  unknown  even  to  bard  or  diviner.  Round 
this  space  were  four  strong  circumvallations  of  loose 
stones,  with  a  space  about  eighty  yards  between  each  ; 
the  walls  themselves  generally  about  eight  feet  wide, 
but  of  various  height,  as  the  stones  had  fallen  by  time 
and  blast.  Along  these  walls  rose  numerous  and  almost 
countless  circular  buildings,  which  might  pass  for  towers, 
though  only  a  few  had  been  recently  and  rudely 
roofed   in.     To  the   whole  of  this  quadruple   enclosure 


310  HAROLD. 

there  was  but  one  narrow  entrance,  now  left  open  as  if 
in  scorn  of  assault ;  and  a  winding,  narrow  pass  down 
the  mountain,  with  innumerable  curves,  alone  led  to 
the  single  threshold.  Far  down  the  hill,  walls  again 
were  visible  •,  and  the  whole  surface  of  the  steep  soil, 
more  than  half-way  in  the  descent,  was  heaped  with 
vast,  loose  stones,  as  if  the  bones  of  a  dead  city.  But 
beyond  the  innermost  enclosure  of  the  fort  (if  fort,  or 
sacred  enclosure,  be  the  corrector  name)  rose,  thick 
and  frequent,  other  mementos  of  the  Briton  :  many 
cromlechs,  already  shattered  and  shapeless  ;  the  ruins 
of  stone  houses  ;  and  high  over  all,  those  upraised, 
mighty  amber  piles,  as  at  Stonehenge,  once  reared,  if 
our  dim  learning  be  true,  in  honor  to  Bel,  or  Bal-Huan, 
the  idol  of  the  sun.  All,  in  short,  showed  that  the 
name  of  the  place,  "the  Head  of  the  City,"  told  its 
tale ;  all  announced  that  there  once  the  Celt  had  his 
home,  and  the  gods  of  the  Druid  their  worship.  And 
musing  amidst  these  skeletons  of  the  past,  lay  the  doomed 
son  of  Pen  Dragon. 

Beside  him  a  kind  of  throne  had  been  raised  with 
stones,  and  over  it  was  spread  a  tattered  and  faded 
velvet  pall.  On  this  throne  sat  Aldyth  the  queen ; 
and  about  the  royal  pair  was  still  that  mockery  of  a 
court  which  the  jealous  pride  of  the  Celt  king  retained 
amidst  all  the  horrors  of  carnage  and  famine.  Most  of 
the  officers,  indeed  (originally  in  number  twenty-four), 
whose  duties  attached  them  to  the  king  and  queen  of 
the  Cymry,  were  already  feeding  the  crow  or  the  worm. 
But  still,  with  gaunt  hawk  on  his  wrist,  the  penhebo- 
gydd  (grand  falconer)  stood  at  a  distance  :  still,  with 
beard  sweeping  his  breast  and  rod  in  hand,  leaned 
against  a  projecting  shaft  of  the  wall  the  noiseless  gos- 
degwr,  whose  duty   it  was  to  command   silence  in  the 


HAROLD.  311 

ting's  liall ;  and  still  the  penbard  bent  over  his  bruised 
harp,  which  ouce  had  thrilled,  througli  the  fair  vaults 
of  Caerleon  and  lihadlan,  in  high  praise  of  Gotl,  and 
the  king,  and  the  Hero  Dead.  In  the  pomp  of  gold 
dish  and  vessel ■"■  the  board  was  spread  on  the  stones 
for  the  king  and  queen ;  and  on  the  dish  was  the  last 
fragment  of  black  bread,  and  in  the  vessel,  full  and  clear, 
the  water  from  tlie  spring  that  bubbled  up  everlastingly 
through  the  bones  of  the  dead  city. 

Beyond  this  innermost  space,  round  a  basin  of  rock, 
through  which  the  stream  overflowed  as  from  an  arti- 
ficial conduit,  lay  the  wounded  and  exhausted,  crawling, 
turn  by  turn,  to  the  lips  of  the  basin,  and  happy  that 
the  thirst  of  fever  saved  them  from  the  gnawing  desire 
of  food.  A  wan  and  spectral  figure  glided  listlessly  to 
and  fro  amidst  those  mangled,  and  parched,  and  dying 
groups.  This  personage,  in  happier  times,  filled  the 
office  of  physician  to  tlie  court,  and  was  placed  twelfth 
in  rank  amidst  the  chiefs  of  the  household.  And  for 
cure  of  the  "  three  deadly  wounds,"  the  cloven  skull, 
or  the  gaping  viscera,  or  the  broken  limb  (all  three 
classed  alike),    large  should  have    been    his    fee.^      But 

1  The  Welsh  seem  to  have  had  a  profusion  of  the  precious 
metals,  very  disprDportioned  to  tlie  scarcity  of  their  coined  money. 
To  say  notliiug  of  the  torques,  bracelets,  and  even  breastplates  of 
gold,  common  with  their  numerous  chiefs,  their  laws  affix  to  of- 
fences penalties  which  attest  the  prevalent  waste  both  of  gold  and 
silver.  Thus,  an  insult  to  a  sub-king  of  Aberfraw  is  atoned  by  a 
silver  rod  as  thick  as  the  king's  little  finger,  which  is  in  length  to 
reach  from  the  ground  to  his  month  when  sitting  ;  and  a  gold  cup, 
with  a  cover  as  broad  as  the  king's  face,  and  the  thickness  of  a 
ploughman's  nail,  or  the  shell  of  a  goose's  egg.  I  suspect  that  it 
was  precisely  because  the  Welsh  coined  little  or  no  money,  that 
the  metals  they  possessed  became  thus  common  in  domestic  use. 
Gold  would  have  been  more  rarely  seen,  even  amongst  the  Peruvi- 
ans, had  they  coined  it  into  money. 

2  Leges   Wailicte. 


312  HAEOLD. 

feeless  went  he  now  from  man  to  man,  with  his  red 
ointment  and  his  muttered  charm  ;  and  those  over 
whom  lie  shook  his  lean  face  and  matted  locks,  smiled 
ghastly  at  that  sign  that  release  and  death  were  near. 
Within  the  enclosures,  either  lay  supine  or  stalked  restless 
the  withered  remains  of  the  wild  army.  A  sheep  and  a 
horse  and  a  dog  were  yet  left  them  all  to  share  for  the 
day's  meal.  And  the  fire  of  flickering  and  crackling 
trushwood  burned  bright  from  a  hollow  amidst  the  loose 
stones  ;  but  the  animals  were  yet  unslain,  and  the  dog 
crept  by  the  fire,   winking  at  it   with  dim  eyes. 

But  over  the  lower  part  of  the  wall  nearest  to  the 
barrow  leaned  three  men.  The  wall  there  was  so  broken 
that  they  could  gaze  over  it  on  that  grotesque  yet  dis- 
mal court ;  and  tlie  eyes  of  the  three  men,  with  a  fierce  and 
wolfish  glare,  were  bent  on  Gryffyth. 

Three  princes  were  they  of  the  great  old  line ;  far  as 
Gryffyth  they  traced  the  fabulous  honors  of  tlieir  race 
to  Hu-Gadarn  and  Prydain,  and  each  thought  it  shame 
that  Gryffyth  should  be  lord  over  him  !  Each  had 
liad  throne  and  court  of  his  own  ;  each  his  "  white 
palace  "  of  peeled  willow  wands,  —  poor  substitutes,  0 
kings,  for  the  palaces  and  towers  that  the  arts  of  Rome 
liad  bequeathed  your  fathers !  And  each  had  been 
subjugated  by  the  son  of  Llewellyn,  when,  in  his  day 
of  might,  he  reunited  under  his  sole  sway  all  the  multi- 
form principalities  of  AVales,  and  regained,  for  a  moment's 
splendor,  the  throne  of  Roderic  the  Great. 

"  Is  it,"  said  Owain,  in  a  hollow  whisper,  "  for  yon 
man,  whom  Heaven  hath  deserted,  who  could  not  keep 
his  very  torque  from  the  gripe  of  the  Saxon,  that  Ave 
are  to  die  on  these  hills,  gnawing  the  flesh  from  our 
bones  1     Think  ye  not  the  hour  is  come  1 " 

"  The  hour  will  come,  when  tlie  sheep  and  the  horse 


HAROLD.  313 

and  the  dog  are  devoured,"  replied  Modred,  "  and  wlien 
the  whole  force,  as  one  man,  will  cry  to  Gryffyth,  *  Thou 
a  king  !  —  give  us  bread  ! '  " 

"  It  is  well,"  said  the  third,  an  old  man,  leaning  on 
a  wand  of  solid  silver,  while  the  mountain  wind,  sweep- 
ing between  the  walls,  played  with  the  rags  of  his  robe, 
—  "it  is  well  that  the  night's  sally,  less  of  war  than  of 
hunger,  was  foiled  even  of  forage  and  food.  Had  the 
saints  been  with  Gryffyth,  who  had  dared  to  keep  faith 
with  Tostig  the  Saxon  1 " 

Owain  langlied,  a  laugh  hollow  and  felse. 

"  Art  thoLi  Cymrian,  and  talkest  of  foith  with  a  Saxon  ? 
Faith  with  the  spoiler,  the  ravisher,  and  butcher  ]  But  a 
Cymrian  keeps  faitli  with  revenge ;  and  Gryftyth's  trunk 
should  be  still  crownless  and  headless,  though  Tostig  had 
never  proffered  the  barter  of  safety  and  food.  Hist ! 
Gryffyth  wakes  from  the  black  dream,  and  his  eyes  glow 
from  under  his  hair." 

And  indeed  at  this  moment  the  king  raised  himself  on 
his  elbow,  and  looked  round  with  a  haggard  and  fierce 
despair  in  his  glittering  eyes. 

"  Play  to  us,  harper  ;  sing  some  song  of  the  deeds 
of  old  ! " 

The  bard  mournfully  strove  to  sweep  the  harp,  but  the 
chords  were  broken,  and  the  note  came  discordant  and 
shrill  as  the  sigh  of  a  wailing  fiend. 

"0  king  !"  said  the  bard,  "the  music  hath  left  the 
harp." 

"  Ha  ! "  murmured  Gryffyth,  "  and  hope  the  earth ! 
Bard,  answer  the  son  of  Llewellyn.  Oft  in  my  halls 
hast  thou  sung  the  praise  of  the  men  that  have  been. 
In  the  halls  of  the  race  to  come,  will  bards  yet  unborn 
sweep  their  harps  to  the  deeds  of  thy  king  1  Shall 
they  tell  of  the  day  of  Torques,  by  Llyn-Afange,  when 


314  HAROLD. 

the  princes  of  Powvs  fled  from  his  sword  as  the  clouds 
from  the  blast  of  the  wind  1  Shall  they  sing,  as  the 
Hirlas  goes  round,  of  his  steeds  of  the  sea,  wlien  no 
flag  came  in  sight  of  his  prows  between  the  dark  isle 
of  the  Druid  ^  and  the  green  pastures  of  Huerdanl^ 
Or  the  towns  that  he  fired,  on  the  lands  of  the  Saxon, 
when  Eolf  and  the  JSTorthmen  ran  fast  from  his  javelin 
and  spear  1  Or  say,  Child  of  Truth,  if  all  that  is  told 
of  Gryffyth  thy  king  shall  be  his  woe  and  his  shame '?" 

The  bard  s'wept  his  hand  over  his  eyes  and  answered,  — 

"  Bards  unborn  shall  sing  of  Gryffyth  the  son  of 
Llewellyn.  But  the  song  shall  not  dwell  on  the  pomp  of 
his  power,  when  twenty  sub-kings  knelt  at  his  throne,  and 
his  beacon  was  lighted  in  the  holds  of  the  Norman  and 
Saxon.  Bards  shall  sing  of  the  hero,  who  fought  every 
inch  of  crag  and  morass  in  the  front  of  his  men, —  and 
on  the  heights  of  Penmaeu-mawr,  Fame  recovers  thy 
crown  !  " 

"  Then  I  have  lived  as  my  fathers  in  life,  and  shall 
live  with  their  glory  in  death  ! "  said  Gryffyth  ;  "  and 
so  the  shadow  hath  passed  from  my  soul."  Then  turning 
round,  still  propped  upon  his  elbow,  he  fixed  his  proud 
eye  upon  Aldyth,  and  said,  gravely,  "  Wife  pale  is  thy 
face,  and  gloomy  thy  brow  ;  mournest  thou  the  throne  or 
the  manr' 

Aldyth  cast  on  her  wild  lord  a  look  of  more  terror 
than  compassion,  a  look  without  the  grief  that  is  gentle,  or 
the  love  that  reveres  ;  and  answered,  — 

"  What  matter  to  thee  my  thoughts  or  my  sufferings  1 
The  sword  or  the  famine  is  the  doom  thou  hast  chosen. 
Listening  to  vain  dreams  from  thy  bard,  or  thine  own 
pride  as  idle,  thou  disdainest  life  for  us  both  :  be  it  so  ;  let 
us  die ! " 

^  Mona,  or  Anglesea.  2  Ireland. 


HAROLD.  315 

A  strange  blending  of  fondness  and  wrath  troubled 
the  pride  on  Gryffyth's  features,  uncouth  and  half-savage 
as  they  were,  but  still  noble  and  kingly. 

"  And  what  terror  has  death,  if  thou  lovest  me  1 "  said 
he. 

Aldyth  shivered  and  turned  aside.  The  unhappy  king 
gazed  hard  on  that  face,  which,  despite  sore  trial  and 
recent  exposure  to  rough  wind  and  weather,  still  retained 
the  proverbial  beauty  of  the  Saxon  women,  —  but  beauty 
without  the  glow  of  the  heart,  as  a  landscape  from  wliich 
sunlight  has  vanished  ;  and  as  he  gazed,  the  color  went 
and  came  fitfully  over  his  swarthy  cheeks,  whose  hue 
contrasted  the  blue  of  his  eye,  and  the  red,  tawny  gold 
of  his  shaggy  hair. 

"Thou  wouldst  have  me,"  he  said  at  length,  "send  to 
Harold  thy  countryman  ;  thou  wouldst  have  me,  me  — 
rightful  lord  of  all  Britain  —  beg  for  mercy,  and  sue  for 
life.  Ah,  traitress,  and  cliikl  of  robber-sires,  fair  as 
Rowena  art  thou,  but  no  Vortimer  am  I  !  Thou  turuest 
in  loathing  from  the  lord  whose  marriage-gift  was  a 
crown ;  and  the  sleek  form  of  thy  Saxon  Harold,  rises  up 
through  the  clouds  of  the  carnage." 

All  the  fierce  and  dangerous  jealousy  of  man's  most 
human  passion  —  when  man  loves  and  hates  in  a  breath 
—  trembled  in  the  Cymrian's  voice,  and  fired  his  troubled, 
eye ;  fur  Aldyth's  pale  cheek  blushed  like  the  rose,  but 
she  folded  her  arms  haughtily  on  her  breast,  and  made 
no  reply. 

"  No,"  said  GryfFyth,  grinding  teeth,  white  ^  and  strong 
as  those  of  a  young  hound,  —  "  no,  Harold  in  vain  sent 
me  the  casket  ;  the  jewel  was   gone.     In   vain   thy   form 

1  The  Welsh  were  tlien,  and  still  are,  remarkable  for  the  beauty 
of  tlieir  teetli.  Giraldus  Cambrensis  observes,  as  somethiug  very 
extraordinary,  that  they  cleaned  them. 


316  HAROLD. 

returned  to  my  side ;  thy  Jieart  was  away  with  thy  cap- 
tor :  and  not  to  save  my  life  (were  I  so  base  as  to  seek  it), 
but  to  see  once  more  the  face  of  him  to  whom  this  cold 
hand,  in  wliose  veins  no  pulse  answers  my  own,  had  been 
given,  if  thy  House  had  consulted  its  daughter,  wouldst 
thou  have  me  crouch  like  a  lashed  dog  at  the  feet  of  my 
foe  1  Oh,  shame  !  shame  !  shame  !  Oh,  worst  perfidy  of 
all!  Oh,  sharp  —  sharper  than  Saxon  sword  or  serpent's 
tooth,  is  —  is  —  " 

Tears  gushed  to  those  fierce  eyes,  and  the  proud  king 
dared  not  trust  to  his  voice. 

Aldyth  rose  coldly.  "  Slay  me  if  thou  wilt,  —  not 
insult  me.    I  have  said,  '  Let  us  die  ! '  " 

With  these  words,  and  vouchsafing  no  look  on  her 
lord,  she  moved  away  towards  the  largest  tower  or  cell,  in 
which  the  single  and  rude  chamber  it  cojitained  had  been 
set  apart  for  her. 

Gryffyth's  eye  followed  her,  softening  gradually  as  her 
form  receded,  till  lost  to  his  sight.  And  tlien  that  pecu- 
liar household  love,  which  in  luicultivated  breasts  often 
survives  trust  and  esteem,  rushed  back  on  his  rough 
heart,  and  weakened  it,  as  woman  only  can  weaken  the 
strong  to  whom  Death  is  a  thought  of  scorn. 

He  signed  to  his  bard,  who,  during  the  conference 
between  wife  and  lord,  had  retired  to  a  distance,  and 
said,  with  a  writhing  attempt  to  smile,  — 

"  Was  there  truth,  thinkest  thou,  in  the  legend,  that 
Guenever  was  false  to  King  Arthur  1 " 

*'  No,"  answered  the  bard,  divining  his  lord's  thought  ; 
"  for  Guenever  survived  not  the  king,  and  they  were 
buried  side  by  side  in  the  vale  of  Avallon." 

'*  Thou  art  wise  in  the  lore  of  the  heart,  and  love  hath 
been  thy  study  from  youth  to  gray  hairs.  Is  it  love,  is  it 
hate,  that  prefers  death  for  the  loved  one  to  the  thought 
of  her  life  as  another's  V 


HAROLD.  317 

A  look  of  the  tenderest  compassion  passed  over  the 
bard's  wan  face,  but  vanished  in  reverence  as  be  bowed 
his  head  and  answered,  — 

"  0  king,  who  shall  say  what  note  the  wind  calls  from 
the  harp,  or  what  impulse  love  wakes  in  the  soul,  —  now 
soft  and  now  stern  1  But,"  be  added,  raising  his  form, 
and  with  a  dread  calm  on  bis  brow,  —  "  but  the  love  of  a 
king  brooks  no  thought  of  dishonor,  and  slie  who  hath 
laid  her  head  on  his  breast  should  sleep  in  his  grave." 

"  Thou  wilt  outlive  me,"  said  Gryffyth,  abruptly. 
"  This  earn  be  my  tomb  !  " 

"And  if  so,"  said  the  bard,  "thou  shalt  sleep  not 
alone.  In  this  earn  what  thou  lovest  best  shall  be  buried 
by  thy  side ;  the  bard  shall  raise  his  song  over  thy  grave, 
and  the  bosses  of  shields  shall  be  placed  at  intervals,  as 
rises  and  falls  the  sound  of  song.  Over  the  grave  of  tioo 
shall  a  new  mound  arise,  and  we  will  bid  the  mound 
speak  to  others  in  the  far  days  to  come.  But  distant  yet 
be  the  hour  when  the  mighty  shall  be  laid  low  !  and  tlie 
tongue  of  thy  bard  may  yet  chant  the  rusli  of  the  lion 
from  the  toils  and  the  spears.     Hope  still ! " 

Gryffyth,  for  answer,  leaned  on  the  harper's  shoulder, 
and  pointed  silently  to  tlie  sea,  that  lay  lake-like  at 
the  distance,  dark,  —  studded  with  the  Saxon  fleet. 
Then  turning,  his  hand  stretched  over  the  forms  that, 
hollow-eyed  and  ghost-like,  flitted  betw^een  the  walls, 
or  lay  dying,  but  mute,  around  the  water-spring.  His 
hand  then  dropped,  and  rested  on  the  hilt  of  his  sword. 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  sudden  commotion  at 
the  outer  entrance  of  the  wall ;  the  crowd  gathered  to 
one  spot,  and  there  was  a  loud  hum  of  voices.  In  a  few 
moments  one  of  the  Welsh  scouts  came  into  the  enclosure, 
and  the  chiefs  of  the  royal  tribes  followed  him  to  the  earn 
on  which  the  king  stood. 


318  HAKOLD. 

''Of  what  tellest  thoul"  said  GryfFyth,  resuming  on 
the  instant  all  the  royalty  of  his  bearing. 

"  At  the  mouth  of  the  pass,"  said  the  scout,  kneeling, 
"  there  are  a  monk  bearing  the  holy  rood,  and  a  chief, 
unarmed.  And  the  monk  is  Evan,  the  Cymrian,  of 
Gwentland ;  and  the  chief,  by  his  voice,  seemeth  not 
to  be  Saxon.  The  monk  bade  me  give  thee  these 
tokens "  (and  the  scout  displayed  the  broken  torque 
which  the  king  had  left  in  the  grasp  of  Harold,  to- 
gether with  a  live  falcon  belled  and  blinded),  "  and 
bade  me  say  thus  to  the  king  :  — '  Harold  the  Earl 
greets  GryfFyth,  son  of  Llewellyn,  and  sends  him,  in 
proof  of  good- will,  the  richest  prize  he  hath  ever  won 
from  a  foe  ;  and  a  hawk,  from  Llandudno,  —  that  bird 
•which  chief  and  equal  give  to  equal  and  chief.  And 
he  prays  GryfFyth,  son  of  Llewellyn,  for  the  sake  of 
his  realm  and  liis  people,  to  grant  hearing  to  his 
nuncius.'  " 

A  murmur  broke  from  the  chiefs,  —  a  mui'mur  of  joy 
and  surprise  from  all,  save  the  three  conspirators,  who 
interchanged  anxious  and  fiery  glances.  GryfFyth's  hand 
had  already  closed,  while  he  uttered  a  cry  that  seemed  of 
rapture,  on  the  color  of  gold  ;  for  the  loss  of  that  collar 
had  stung  him,  perhaps,  more  than  the  loss  of  the  crown 
of  all  Wales.  And  his  heart,  so  generous  and  large, 
amidst  all  its  rude  passions,  was  touched  by  the  speech 
and  the  tokens  that  honored  the  fallen  outlaw,  both  as 
foe  and  as  king.  Yet  in  his  face  there  was  still  seen  a 
moody  and  proud  struggle  ;  he  paused  before  lie  turned 
to  the  chiefs. 

"  What  counsel  ye,  —  ye  strong  in  battle,  and  wise  in 
debate  1"  said  he. 

With  one  voice  all,  save  the  Fatal  Three,  exclaimed,  — 

"  Hear  the  monk,  0  king  !  " 


HAROLD.  319 

"  Shall  we  dissuade  1 "  whispered  Modred  to  the  old 
chief,  his  accomplice. 

"  No  ;  for  so  doing,  we  shall  offend  all :  — and  we  must 
win  all." 

Then  the  bard  stepped  into  the  ring.  And  the  ring 
was  hushed,  for  wise  is  ever  the  counsel  of  him  whose 
book  is  the  human  heart. 

"  Hear  the  Saxons,"  said  he,  briefly,  and  with  an  air 
of  command  when  addressing  others,  which  contrasted 
strongly  his  tender  respect  to  the  king ;  "  hear  the 
Saxons,  but  not  in  these  walla.  Let  no  man  from  the 
foe  see  our  strength  or  our  weakness.  We  are  still 
mighty  and  impregnable,  while  our  dwelling  is  in  the 
reahu  of  the  Unknown.  Let  the  king,  and  his  olficers 
of  state,  and  his  chieftains  of  battle,  descend  to  the  pass. 
And  behind,  at  tlie  distance,  let  the  spearmen  range 
from  cliff  to  cliff,  as  a  ladder  of  steel ;  so  will  their  numbers 
seem  the  greater." 

"  Tliou  speakest  well,"  said  the  king. 

Meanwhile,  the  knight  and  the  monk  waited  below 
at  that  terrible  pass,^  which  then  lay  between  moun- 
tain and  river,  and  over  which  the  precipices  frowned, 
with  a  sense  of  horror  and  weight.  Looking  up,  the 
knight  murmured,  — 

"  With  those  stones  and  crags  to  roll  down  on  a 
marching  army,  the  place  well  defies  storm  and  assault ; 
and  a  hundred  on  the  height  would  overmatch  thousands 
below." 

He  then  turned  to  address  a  few  words,  with  all 
the  far-famed  courtesy  of  Norman  and  Frank,  to  the 
W^elsh  guards  at  the  outpost.  They  were  picked  men ; 
the  strongest  and  best  armed  and  best  fed  of  the  group. 

^  I  believe  it  was  not  till  the  last  century  that  a  good  road  took 
the  place  of  this  pass. 


320  HAROLD. 

But  they  shook  their  heads  and  answered  not,  gazing 
ut  liim  fiercely  and  showing  their  white  teeth,  as  dogs  at 
a  bear  before  they  are  loosened  from  the  band. 

"  They  understand  me  not,  poor  languageless  sav- 
ages ! "  said  Mallet  de  Graville,  turning  to  the  monk, 
Avho  stood  by  with  the  lifted  rood  ;  "  speak  to  them  iji 
their  own  jargon." 

"Nay,"  said  the  Welsh  monk,  who,  though  of  a  rival 
tribe  from  South  Wales,  and  at  tlie  service  of  Harold, 
was  esteemed  throughout  the  land  for  piety  and  learning; 
"  they  will  not  open  mouth  till  the  king's  orders  come  to 
receive,  or  dismiss  us  unheard." 

"  Dismiss  us  unheard  ! "  repeated  the  punctilious 
Norman  ;  "  even  this  poor,  barbarous  king  can  scarcely 
be  so  strange  to  all  comely  and  gentle  usage  as  to  put 
such  insult  on  Guillaume  Mallet  de  Graville.  But," 
added  the  knight,  coloring,  "  I  forgot  that  he  is  not 
advised  of  my  name  and  land  ;  and,  indeed,  sitli  thou 
art  to  be  spokesman,  I  marvel  wliy  Harold  should  have 
prayed  my  service  at  all,  at  the  risk  of  subjecting  a  Nor- 
man knight  to  affronts  contumelious." 

"  Peradventure,"  replied  Evan,  —  "  peradventure  thou 
hast  something  to  whisper  apart  to  the  king,  which,  as 
stranger  and  warrior,  none  will  venture  to  question  ;  but 
which  from  me,  as  countryman  and  priest,  would  excite 
the  jealous  suspicions  of  those  around  him." 

"  I  conceive  thee,"  said  De  Graville.  "  And  see, 
spears  are  gleaming  down  the  path ;  and,  per  pedes 
Domini,  yon  chief  with  the  mantle,  and  circlet  of  gold  on 
his  head,  is  the  cat-king  that  so  spitted  and  scratched  in 
the  melee  last  night." 

"  Heed  well  thy  tongue,"  said  Evan,  alarmed  ;  "  no  jests 
with  the  leader  of  men." 

"  Kuowest     thou,     good    monk,     that    a    facete    and 


HAROLD.  321 

most  gentil  Roman  (if  the  saintly  writer  from  whom 
I  take  the  citation  reports  aright, — for,  alas!  I  know 
not  where  myself  to  purchase,  or  to  steal,  one  copy  of 
Horatius  Flaccus)  hath  said,  *  Didce  est  desipere  in  loco  '  / 
It  is  sweet  to  jest,  but  not  within  reach  of  claws,  whether 
of  kaisars  or  cats." 

Therewith  the  knight  drew  up  his  spare  but  stately 
figure  ;  and,  arranging  his  robe  with  grace  and  dignity, 
awaited  the  coming  chief. 

Down  the  pass,  one  by  one,  came  first  the  chiefs, 
privileged  by  birth  to  attend  the  king ;  and  each,  as 
he  reached  the  mouth  of  the  pass,  drew  on  the  upper 
side,  among  the  stones  of  the  rough  ground.  Then 
a  banner,  tattered  and  torn,  with  the  lion  ensign  that  the 
Welsh  princes  had  substituted  for  the  old  national 
dragon,  which  the  Saxons  of  Wessex  had  appropriated  to 
themselves,*  preceded  the  steps  of  the  king.  Behind  him 
came  his  falconer  and  bard,  and  the  rest  of  his  scanty 
household.  The  king  halted  in  tlie  pass  a  few  steps  from 
the    Norman    knight ;    and    Mallet    de    Graville,    though 

1  The  Saxons  of  Wessex  seem  to  have  adopted  the  dragon  for 
their  ensij^n  from  an  early  period.  It  was  probably  for  this  reason 
that  it  was  assumed  by  Edward  Ironsides,  as  the  hero  of  the 
Saxons ;  the  principality  of  Wessex  forming  the  most  important 
portion  of  the  pure  Saxon  race,  while  its  founder  was  the  ancestor 
of  the  imperial  House  of  Basileus  of  Eritain.  The  dragon  seems 
also  to  have  been  a  Norman  ensign.  The  lions  or  leopards,  popu- 
larly assigned  to  the  Conqueror,  are  certainly  a  later  invention. 
There  is  no  appearance  of  them  on  the  banners  and  shields  of  tlie 
Norman  army  in  the  Bayeux  tapestry.  Armorial  bearings  were 
iu  use  amongst  the  Welsh,  and  even  the  Saxons,  long  before  her- 
aldry was  reduced  to  a  science  by  the  Franks  and  Normans  ;  and 
the  dragon,  which  is  supposed  by  many  critics  to  be  borrowed 
from  the  East,  through  the  Saracens,  certainly  existed  as  an  armo- 
rial ensign  with  the  Cymrians  before  they  could  have  had  any 
obligation  to  the  songs  and  legends  of  that  people. 

VOL.  I.  —  21 


322  HAROLD. 

accustomed  to  the  majestic  mien  of  Duke  William,  and  the 
practised  state  of  the  princes  of  France  and  Flanders,  felt 
an  involuntary  thrill  of  admiration  at  the  hearing  of  the 
great  child  of  Nature  with  his  foot  on  his  father's  soiL 

Small  and  slight  as  was  his  stature,  worn  and  ragged 
his  mantle  of  state,  there  was  that  in  the  erect  mien 
and  steady  eye  of  the  Cymrian  hero  which  showed  one 
conscious  of  authority,  and  potent  in  will ;  and  the 
wave  of  his  hand  to  the  knight  was  the  gesture  of  a 
prince  on  his  throne.  Nor,  indeed,  was  that  brave  and 
ill-fated  chief  without  some  irregular  gleams  of  mental 
cultivation,  which,  under  happier  auspices,  might  have 
centred  into  steadfast  light.  Though  the  learning 
which  had  once  existed  in  Wales  (the  last  legacy  of 
Rome)  had  long  since  expired  in  broil  and  blood,  and 
youths  no  longer  flocked  to  the  colleges  of  Caerleon, 
and  priests  no  longer  adorned  the  casuistical  theology 
of  the  age,  GryfFyth  himself,  the  son  of  a  wise  and 
famous  father,^  had  received  an  education  beyond  the 
average  of  Saxon  kings.  But,  intensely  national,  his 
mind  had  turned  from  all  other  literature  to  the  le- 
gends and  songs  and  chronicles  of  his  land ;  and  if 
he  is  the  best  scholar  who  best  understands  his  own 
tongue  and  its  treasures,  Gryffyth  was  the  most  erudite 
prince  of  his  age.  His  natural  talents,  for  war  espe- 
cially, were  considerable  ;  and  judged  fairly,  —  not  as 
mated  with  an  empty  treasury,  without  other  army 
than  the  capricious  will  of  his  subjects  afforded,  and, 
amidst  his  bitterest  foes  in  the  jealous  chiefs  of  his  own 
country,  against  the  disciplined  force  and  comparative 
civilization    of  the    Saxon,    but    as   compared     with    all 

^  "  In  whose  time  the  earth  brought  forth  double,  and  there  was 
neither  beggar  nor  poor  man  from  the  North  to  the  South  Sea." — • 
PoweU's  "  Hist,  of  Wales,"  p.  83. 


HAROLD.  323 

the  other  princes  of  Wales  in  warfare,  to  which  he 
was  habituated,  and  in  which  chances  were  even, — the 
fallen  sou  of  Llewellyn  had  been  the  most  renowned 
leader  that  Cymry  had  known  since  the  death  of  the  great 
Eoderic. 

So  there  he  stood,  his  attendants,  ghastly  with  famine, 
drawn  up  on  the  unequal  ground  ;  above,  on  the  heights, 
and  rising  from  the  stone  crags,  long  lines  of  spears  art- 
fully placed  ;  and,  watching  him  with  deathi'ul  eyes, 
somewhat  in  his  rear,  tlie  Traitor  Three. 

"  Speak,  father  or  chief,"  said  the  Welsh  king  in 
his  native  tongue  ;  "  what  would  Harold  the  Earl  of 
Gryffyth  the  King  1' ' 

Then  the  monk  took  up  the  word  and  spoke. 

"  Health  to  GryfFyth-ap-Llewellyn,  his  chiefs  and  his 
people  !  Thus  saith  Harold,  King  Edward's  thegn : 
—  '  By  land  all  the  passes  are  watched ;  by  sea  all  the 
waves  are  our  own.  Our  swords  rest  in  our  sheaths ; 
but  Famine  marches  each  hour  to  gride  and  to  slay. 
Instead  of  sure  death  from  the  hunger,  take  sure  life 
from  the  foe.  Free  pardon  to  all,  chiefs  and  people, 
and  safe  return  to  their  homes,  —  save  GryfFyth  alone. 
Let  him  come  forth,  not  as  victim  and  outlaw,  not  with 
bent  form  and  clasped  hands,  but  as  chief  meeting 
cliief,  with  his  household  of  state.  Harold  will  meet 
him,  in  honor,  at  the  gates  of  the  fort.  Let  Gryffyth 
submit  to  King  Edward,  and  ride  with  Harold  to  the 
Court  of  the  Basileus.  Harold  promises  him  life,  and 
will  plead  for  his  pardon.  And  though  the  peace  of 
this  realm,  and  the  fortune  of  war,  forbid  Harold  to 
say,  "Thou  shalt  yet  be  a  king;"  yet  thy  crown,  son. 
of  Llewellyn,  shall  at  least  be  assured  in  the  line  of 
thy  fathers,  and  the  race  of  Cadwallader  shall  still  reigu 
in  Cymry.' " 


324  HAROLD. 

The  monk  paused,  and  hope  and  joy  were  in  the  faces 
of  the  famished  chiefs  ;  while  two  of  the  Traitor  Three 
suddenly  left  their  post  and  sped  to  tell  the  message 
to  the  spearmen  and  multitudes  above.  Modred,  the 
third  conspirator,  laid  his  hand  on  his  hilt,  and  stole 
near  to  see  the  face  of  the  king  :  the  face  of  the  king  was 
dark  and  angry,  as  a  midnight  of  storm. 

Then  raising  the  cross  on  high,  Evan  resumed  :  — 

"  And  I,  though  of  the  people  of  Gwentland,  which  the 
arms  of  Gryffyth  have  wasted,  and  whose  prince  fell 
beneath  Grylfyth's  sword  on  the  hearth  of  his  hall,  —  I, 
as  God's  servant,  the  brother  of  all  I  behold,  and,  as 
son  of  the  soil,  mourning  over  the  slaughter  of  its  latest 
defenders,  —  I  by  this  symbol  of  love  and  command, 
which  I  raise  to  the  heaven,  adjure  thee,  0  king,  to 
give  ear  to  the  mission  of  peace,  to  cast  down  the 
grim  pride  of  earth ;  and,  instead  of  the  crown  of  a 
day,  fix  thy  hopes  on  the  crown  everlasting.  For  much 
shall  be  pardoned  to  thee  in  thine  hour  of  pomp  and 
of  conquest,  if  now  thou  savest  from  doom  and  from  death 
the  last  lives  over  which  thou  art  lord." 

It  was  during  this  solemn  appeal  that  the  knight, 
marking  the  sign  announced  to  him,  and,  drawing  close 
to  Giyffyth,  pressed  the  ring  into  the  king's  hand,  and 
whispered,  — 

"  Obey  by  this  pledge.  Thou  knowest  Harold  is  true, 
and  thy  head  is  sold  by  thine  own  people." 

The  king  cast  a  haggard  eye  at  the  speaker,  and  then 
at  the  ring,  over  which  his  hand  closed  with  a  con- 
vulsive spasm.  And  at  that  dread  instant  the  man 
prevailed  over  the  king ;  and  far  away  from  people  and 
monk,  from  adjuration  and  duty,  fled  his  heart  on  the 
wings  of  the  storm, —  fled  to  the  cold  wife  he  distrusted  ; 
and  the   pledge  that   should  assure  him  of  life  seemed 


HAROLD.  325 

as  a  love-token  insulting  his  fixll  :  —  amidst  all  the  roar 
of  roused  passions,  loudest  of  all  was  the  hiss  of  the 
jealous  fiend. 

As  the  monk  ceased,  the  thrill  of  the  audience  was 
perceptible,  and  a  deep  silence  was  followed  by  a  general 
murmur,  as  if  to  constrain  the  king. 

Then   the  pride  of  the  despot  chief  rose  up  to  second 

the  wrath  of  the  suspecting  man.     The  red  spot  flushed 

the  dark  cheek,  and  he  tossed  the  neglected  hair  from  his 

brow. 

He   made  one    stride  towards  the  monk,  and  said,  in 

a  voice  loud  and  deep  and  slow,  rolling  far  up  the  hill,  — 
"  Monk,  thou  hast    said ;    and  now   hear  the  reply   of 
the    son    of    Llewellyn,   the    true    heir    of    Eoderic    the 
Great,  who  from  the  heights  of  Eryri  saw  all  the  lands 
of  the    Cymrian    sleeping    under    the  dragon   of   Uther. 
King  was   I  born,  and  king  will  I  die.     I  will  not  ride 
by  the  side  of  the  Saxon  to  the  feet  of  Edward,  the  son 
of  the   spoiler.     I    will    not,  to    purchase  base  life,    sur- 
render the    claim,   vain  before    men    and   the    hour,  but 
solemn  before  God  and  posterity,  —  the  claim  of  my  line 
and  my  people.     All  Britain  is  ours,  —  all  the  Island  of 
Pines.      And    the    children    of  Hengist  are  traitors  and 
rebels,  —  not  the  heirs  of   Ambrosius   and    Uther.     Say 
to  Harold  the  Saxon,  '  Ye  have  left  us  but  the  tomb  of 
the  Druid   and   the  hills  of  the  eagle  ;  but  freedom  and 
royalty   are  ours  in  life  and  in  death, — not   for  you  to 
demand   them,  not   for  us  to  betray.'     I^or   fear   ye,  0 
my  chiefs,  few,  but  unmatched  in  glory  and  truth,  —  fear 
not  ye  to  perish   by  the  hunger  thus  denounced  as   our 
doom,  on  these  heights   that  command   the  fruits  of  our 
own  fields  !     No,  die  we  may,  but  not  mute  and  revenge- 
less.     Go  back,  whispering  warrior  ;  go  back,  false  son  of 
Cymry,  —  and  tell  Harold  to  look  well  to  his  walls  and 


526  HAROLD. 

his  trenches.  We  will  vouchsafe  him  grace  for  his  grace, 
—  we  will  not  take  him  hy  surprise,  nor  under  cloud  of 
the  night.  With  the  gleam  of  our  spears  and  the  clash  of 
our  shields  we  will  come  from  the  hill ;  and,  famine-worn 
as  he  deems  us,  hold  a  feast  in  his  walls  which  the  eagles 
of  Snowdon  spread  their  pinions  to  share  !  " 

"  Rasli  man  and  unhappy  !  "  cried  the  monk  ;  "  what 
curse  drawest  thou  down  on  thy  head  !  Wilt  thou  he 
the  murderer  of  thy  men,  in  strife  unavailing  and  vain  1 
Heaven  holds  thee  guilty  of  all  the  blood  thou  shalt  cause 
to  be  shed." 

"Be  dumb! — hush  thy  screech,  lying  raven!"  ex- 
claimed Gryffytb,  his  eyes  darting  fire,  and  his  slight 
form  dilating.  "  Once,  priest  and  monk  Avent  before 
us  to  inspire,  not  to  daunt ;  and  our  cry,  Alleluia  !  was 
taught  us  by  the  saints  of  the  Church,  on  the  day  when 
Saxons,  fierce  and  many  as  Harold's,  fell  on  the  field  of 
Maes-Garmon.  No,  tlie  curse  is  on  the  head  of  the 
invader,  not  on  those  who  defend  hearth  and  altar. 
Yea,  as  the  song  to  the  bard,  the  curse  leaps  through 
my  veins,  and  rushes  forth  from  my  lips.  By  the  land 
they  have  ravaged  ;  by  the  gore  they  have  spilt ;  on 
these  crags,  our  last  refuge  ;  below  the  earn  on  yon 
heights,  where  the  Dead  stir  to  hear  me,  —  I  launch  the 
curse  of  the  wronged  and  the  doomed  on  the  children 
of  Hengist!  They  in  turn  shall  know  the  steel  of  the 
stranger, — their  crown  shall  be  shivered  as  glass,  and 
their  nobles  be  as  slaves  in  the  land.  And  the  line 
of  Hengist  and  Cerdic  shall  be  rased  from  the  roll  of 
empire.  And  the  ghost  of  our  fathers  shall  glide, 
appeased,  over  the  grave  of  their  nation.  But  we  —  we, 
though  weak  in  the  body,  in  the  soul  shall  be  strong  to 
the  last  !  The  ploughshare  may  pass  over  our  cities, 
but  the  soil  shall  be  trod  by  our  steps,  and  our  deeds 


HAROLD,  327 

keep  our  language  alive  in  the  songs  of  our  bards.  Kor 
in  the  great  Judgment  Day  sliall  auy  race  but  the  race  of 
Cymry  rise  from  their  graves  in  this  corner  of  earth  to 
answer  for  the  sins  of  the  brave  ! "  '■ 

So  impressive  the  voice,  so  grand  the  brow,  and  sub- 
lime the  wild  gesture  of  the  king,  as  he  thus  spoke, 
that  not  only  the  monk  himself  was  awed,  —  not  only, 
though  he  understood  not  the  words,  did  the  IS^'ormau 
knight  bow  his  head,  as  a  child  when  the  lightning  he 
fears  as  by  instinct  flashes  out  from  the  cloud,  but  even 
the  sullen  and  wide-spreading  discontent  at  work  among 
most  of  the  chiefs  was  arrested  for  a  moment.  But  the 
spearmen  and  multitude  above,  excited  by  the  tidings 
of  safety  to  life,  and  worn  out  by  repeated  defeat,  and 
the  dread  fear  of  famine,  too  remote  to  hear  the  king, 
were  listening  eagerly  to  the  insidious  addresses  of  the 
two  stealthy  conspirators,  creeping  from  rank  to  rank ; 
and  already  they  began  to  sway  and  move,  and  sweep 
slowly  down  towards  the  king. 

Recovering  his  surprise,  the  N^orman  again  neared 
Gryffyth,  and  began  to  reurge  his  mission  of  peace.  But 
the  chief  waved  him  back  sternly,  and  said  aloud,  though 
in  Saxon  :  — 

1  "  During  the  military  expeditions  made  in  our  days  against 
South  Wales,  an  old  Welshman  at  Pencadair,  who  had  faithfully 
adhered  to  him  (Henry  II.),  being  desired  to  give  his  opinion 
about  the  royal  army,  and  whether  he  thought  that  of  the  rebels 
would  make  resistance,  and  what  he  thought  would  be  the  final 
event  of  this  war,  replied  :  '  This  nation,  0  king,  may  now,  as  in 
former  times,  be  harassed,  and,  in  a  great  measure,  be  weakened 
and  destroyed,  by  you  and  other  powers,  and  it  will  often  prevail 
by  its  laudable  exertions;  but  it  can  never  be  totally  subdued  by 
the  wrath  of  man,  unless  the  wrath  of  God  shall  concur.  Nor  do  I 
think  that  an//  otiier  nation  than  this  of  Wales,  or  am/  other  lanrptaqe 
(whatever  mai/  hereafter  come  to  pass),  shall  in  the  day  of  severe  ex- 
amination before  the  Supreme  Jndfje  answer  for  this  corner  of  the 
earth  ! '"  —  Hoare's  "  Giraldus  Cambrensis,"  vol.  i.  p.  361. 


328  HAROLD. 

"  No  secrets  can  pass  between  Harold  and  me.  This 
much  alone  take  thou  back  as  answer  :  —  1  tliauk  the 
earl,  for  myself,  my  queen,  and  my  jjeoj^le.  Noble  have 
been  his  courtesies,  as  foe ;  as  foe  I  thank  him,  —  as 
king,  defy.  The  torque  he  hath  returned  to  my  hand, 
he  shall  see  again  ere  the  sun  set.  Messengers,  ye  are 
answered.  Withdraw  and  speed  fast,  that  we  may  pass 
not  your  steps  on  the  road." 

Tlie  monk  sighed,  and  cast  a  look  of  holy  compassion 
over  the  circle  ;  and  a  pleased  man  was  he  to  see  in  the 
faces  of  most  there  that  the  king  was  alone  in  his 
fierce  defiance.  Then  lifting  again  the  rood,  he  turned 
away,  and  with  him  went  tlie  Norman. 

The  retirement  of  the  messengers  was  the  signal  for 
one  burst  of  remonstrance  from  the  chiefs,  —  the  signal 
for  the  voice  and  the  deeds  of  the  Fatal  Three.  Down 
from  the  heights  sprang  and  rushed  the  angry  and  turbu- 
lent multitudes  ;  round  the  king  came  the  bard  and  the 
falconer,  and  some  faitliful  few. 

The  great  uproar  of  many  voices  caused  the  monk 
and  the  knight  to  pause  abruptly  in  their  descent,  and 
turn  to  look  behind.  They  could  see  the  crowd  rush- 
ing down  from  the  higher  steeps  ;  but  on  the  spot 
itself  which  they  had  so  lately  left,  the  nature  of  the 
ground  only  permitted  a  confused  view  of  spear-points, 
lifted  swords,  and  heads  crowned  with  shaggy  locks  sway- 
ing to  and  fro. 

"  What  means  all  this  commotion  1 "  asked  the  kniuht, 
Avith  his  hand  on  his  sword. 

"  Hist  ! "  said  the  monk,  pale  as  ashes,  and  leaning  for 
support  upon  tlie  cross. 

Suddenly,  above  the  hubbub,  was  heard  the  voice  of 
the  king,  in  accents  of  menace  and  wrath,  singularly 
distinct   and    clear ;    it    was    followed    by    a    moment's 


HAROLD.  329 

silence,  —  a  moment's  silence  followed  by  the  clatter  of 
arms,  a  yell,  and  a  howl,  and  the  indescribable  shock  of 
men. 

And  suddenly  again  was  heard  a  voice  that  seemed 
that  of  the  king,  but  no  longer  distinct  and  clear  !  —  was 
it  laugh  1  —  was  it  groan  1 

xlll  was  hushed ;  the  monk  was  on  his  knees  in 
prayer ;  the  knight's  sword  was  bare  in  his  hand.  All 
was  hushed,  —  and  the  spears  stood  still  in  the  air;  when 
there  was  again  a  cry,  as  multitudinous  but  less  savage 
than  before.  And  the  Welsh  came  down  the  pass,  and 
down  the  crags. 

The  knight  placed  his  back  to  a  rock.  "They  have 
orders  to  murder  us,"  he  murmured  ;  "  but  woe  to  the  first 
who  comes  within  reach  of  my  sword  !  " 

Down  swarmed  the  Welshmen,  nearer  and  nearer, 
and  in  the  midst  of  them  three  chiefs,  —  the  Fatal 
Three.  And  the  old  chief  bore  in  his  hand  a  pole  or 
spear,  and  on  the  top  of  that  spear,  trickling  gore  step  by 
step,  was  the  trunkless  head  of  Gryffyth  the  king. 

"  This,"  said  the  old  chief,  as  he  drew  near,  "  this  is  our 
answer  to  Harold  the  Earl.     We  will  go  with  ye." 

"  Food  !  food  !  "  cried  the  multitude. 

And  the  three  chiefs  (one  on  either  side  the  trunkless 
head  that  the  third  bore  aloft)  whispered,  "  We  are 
avenged  1  " 


NOTES. 


Page  14. 

There  are  various  accounts  in  the  Chroniclers  as  to  the  stature  of 
William  the  First ;  some  represent  liim  as  a  giant,  others  as  of  just 
or  middle  height.  Considering  the  A'ulgar  inclination  to  attribute 
to  a  hero's  stature  the  qualities  of  the  mind  (and  putting  out  of  all 
question  the  arguments  that  rest  on  the  pretended  size  of  the  dis- 
buried  bones  —  for  which  the  authorities  are  really  less  respecta- 
ble than  those  on  which  we  are  called  upon  to  believe  that  the 
skeleton  of  the  mythical  Gawaine  measured  eight  feet),  we  prefer 
that  supposition,  as  to  the  physical  proportions,  which  is  most  iu 
harmony  with  the  usual  laws  of  Nature.  It  is  rare,  indeed,  that  a 
great  intellect  is  found  in  the  form  of  a  giant. 

Page  29.     Game  Laws  before  the  Coxquest. 

Under  the  Saxon  kings  a  man  might,  it  is  true,  hunt  in  his  own 
grounds,  but  that  was  a  privilege  that  could  benefit  few  but  thegns ; 
and  over  cultivated  ground  or  shire-land  there  was  not  the  same 
sport  to  be  found  as  iu  the  vast  wastes  called  forest-land,  and  which 
mainly  belonged  to  the  kings. 

Edward  declares,  in  a  law  recorded  in  a  volume  of  the  Excheq- 
uer, "  I  will  that  all  men  do  abstain  from  hunting  in  my  woods, 
and  that  my  will  shall  be  obeyed  under  penalty  of  life."  ^ 

Edgar,  the  darling  monarch  of  the  monks,  and,  indeed,  one  of 
the  most  popular  of  the  Auglo-Saxon  kings,  was  so  rigorous  in  his 
forest-laws,  that  the  thegns  murmured  as  well  as  the  lower  hus- 
bandmen, who  had  been  accu.stomed  to  use  the  woods  for  pasturage 
and  boscage.  Canute's  forest-laws  were  meant  as  a  liberal  conces- 
sion to  public  feeling  on  the  subject ;  they  are  more  definite  than 
Edgar's,  but  terribly  stringent ;  if  a  freeman  killed  one  of  the 
king's  deer,  or  struck  his  forester,  he  lost  his  freedom  and  became 
a  penal  serf  (white  theowe) —  that  is,  he  ranked  with  felons.  Never- 
*  Thomson's  "  Essay  on  Slagna  Charta." 


332  NOTES. 

theleas,  Canute  allowed  bishops,  abbots,  and  thegns  to  hunt  in  his 
woods  —  a  privilege  restored  by  Henry  III.  The  nobility,  after 
the  Conquest,  being  excluded  from  the  royal  chases,  petitioned  to 
enclose  parks,  as  early  even  as  the  reign  of  William  I. ;  and  by  tlie 
time  of  his  sou,  Henry  I.,  parks  became  so  common  as  to  be  at  once 
a  ridicule  and  a  grievance. 

Page  37.     Belin's  Gate. 

Verstegan  combats  the  Welsh  antiquaries  who  would  appropri- 
ate this  gate  to  the  British  deity,  Bal,  or  Beli ;  and  says,  if  so,  it 
would  not  have  been  called  by  a  name  half  Saxon,  half  British, 
gate  (geat)  being  Saxon  ;  but  rather  Beliusport,  than  Belinsgate. 
This  is  no  very  strong  argument ;  for,  in  the  Norman  time,  many 
compound  words  were  half  Norman,  half  Saxon.  But,  in  truth, 
Eeliu  was  a  Teuton  deity,  whose  worship  pervaded  all  Gaul ;  and 
the  Saxon  might  eitlier  have  continued,  therefore,  the  name  they 
found,  or  given  it  themselves,  from  their  own  god.  I  am  not 
inclined,  however,  to  contend  that  any  deity,  Saxon  or  British, 
gave  the  name,  or  that  Billing  is  not,  after  all,  the  right  orthogra- 
phy. Billing,  like  all  words  ending  in  ing,  has  something  very 
Danish  in  its  sound  ;  and  the  name  is  quite  as  likely  to  have  been 
given  by  the  Danes  as  by  the  Saxons. 

Page  40.     Vineyards  in  England. 

The  question  whether  or  not  real  vineyards  Avere  grown,  or  real 
wine  made  from  them  in  England,  has  been  a  very  vexed  question 
amiing  the  anti(|uaries.  But  it  is  scarcely  possible  to  read  Pegge's 
dispute  with  Daines  Barrington  in  the  "  Archteologia  "  without  de- 
ciding both  questions  in  the  affirmative.  —  See  "  Archieol."  vol.  iii. 
p.  5.3.  An  engraving  of  tlie  Saxon  wine-press  is  given  in  Strutt's 
"  Horda."  Vineyards  fell  into  disuse,  either  by  treaty  with  France, 
or  Gascony  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  English.  But  vineyards 
were  cultivated  by  private  gentlemen  as  late  as  1621.  Our  first 
wines  from  Bordeaux  —  the  true  country  of  Bacclius  —  appear  to 
have  been  imported  about  1154,  by  the  marriage  of  Henry  II. 
with  Eleanor  of  Aquitaine. 

Page  85.  Lanfranc,  the  first  Anglo-Norman  Archbishop 
OF  Canterbury. 

Lanfranc  was,  in  all  respects,  one  of  the  most  remarkable  men 
of  the  eleventh  century.  He  was  born  in  Pavia,  about  1005.  His 
family  was  noble  —  his  father  ranked  amongst  the  magistrature  of 


NOTES.  333 

Pavia,  the  Lombard  capital.  From  his  earliest  youth  he  gave  him- 
self up,  with  all  a  scholar's  zeal,  to  the  liberal  arts,  and  the  special 
knowledge  of  law,  civil  and  ecclesiastical.  He  studied  at  Cologne, 
and  afterwards  taught  and  practised  law  in  his  own  country. 
"  Wliile  yet  extremely  young,"  says  one  of  the  lively  chroniclers, 
"  he  triumplied  over  the  ablest  advocates,  and  the  torrents  of  his 
eloquence  confounded  the  subtlest  rhetorician."  His  decisions 
were  received  as  authorities  by  the  Italian  jurisconsults  and  tri- 
bunals. His  mind,  to  judge  both  by  his  history  and  his  peculiar 
reputation  (for  probably  few,  if  any,  students  of  our  day  can  pre- 
tend to  more  than  a  partial  or  superficial  acquaintance  with  his 
writings),  was  one  that  delighted  in  subtleties  and  casuistical  refine- 
ments ;  but  a  sense  too  large  and  commanding  for  those  studies 
which  amuse  but  never  satisfy  the  higlier  intellect,  became  dis- 
gusted betimes  witli  mere  legal  dialectics.  Those  grand  and 
absorbing  mysteries  connected  with  the  Christian  faith  and  the 
Roman  Church  (grand  and  al)sorbing  in  jiroportiou  as  their  prem- 
ises are  taken  by  religious  belief  as  mathematical  axioms  already 
proven)  seized  hold  of  his  imagination,  and  tasked,  to  the  depth, 
his  inquisitive  reason.  The  Chronicle  of  Knyghton  cites  an  inter- 
esting anecdote  of  his  life  at  this  its  important  crisis.  He  had 
retired  to  a  solitary  spot,  beside  tlic  Seine,  to  meditate  on  the 
mysterious  essence  of  the  Trinity,  wlien  he  saw  a  boy  ladling  out 
the  waters  of  the  river  that  ran  before  him  into  a  little  well.  His 
curiosity  arrested,  he  asked  wliat  tlie  boy  proposed  to  do.  The 
boy  replied,  "  to  empty  yon  deep  into  this  well."  "  That  canst 
thou  never  do,"  said  the  scholar.  "  Nor  canst  thou,"  answered 
the  boy,  "exhaust  the  deep  on  which  tliou  dost  meditate  into  the 
■well  of  thy  reason."  Therewith  the  speaker  vanished,  and  Lan- 
franc,  resigning  the  hope  to  achieve  the  mighty  m3^stery,  threw 
himself  at  once  into  the  arms  of  faith,  and  took  his  refuge  in  the 
monastery  of  Bee. 

The  tale  may  be  a  legend,  but  not  an  idle  one.  Perhaps  h« 
related  it  himself  as  a  parable,  and  by  the  fiction  explained  the 
process  of  thought  that  decided  his  career.  In  the  prime  of  his 
manhood,  about  1042,  when  he  was  thirty -seven  years  old,  and  in 
the  zenith  of  liis  scholarly  fame,  he  professed.  The  Convent  of  Bee 
had  been  lately  founded,  under  Herluin,  the  first  abbot;  tliere 
Lanfranc  opened  a  school,  which  became  one  of  the  most  famous 
throughout  the  west  of  Europe.  Indeed,  under  the  Lombard's 
influence,  the  then  obscure  Convent  of  Bee,  to  which  the  solitude 


334  NOTES. 

of  the  site,  and  the  poverty  of  the  endowment,  allured  his  choice, 
grew  the  Academe  of  the  age.  "  It  was,"  says  Orderic,  in  his 
charming  chronicle,  "  it  was  under  such  a  master  that  the  Nor- 
mans received  tlieir  first  notions  of  literature ;  from  that  school 
emerged  the  multitude  of  eloquent  philosophers  who  adorned  alike 
divinity  and  science.  From  France,  Gascony,  Bretagne,  Flanders, 
scholars  thronged  to  receive  his  lessons."  ^ 

At  first,  as  superficially  stated  in  the  tale,  Lanfranc  had  t.aken 
part  against  the  marriage  of  William  with  Matilda  of  Flanders  — 
a  marriage  clearly  contrary  to  the  formal  canons  of  the  Koman 
Church,  and  was  banished  by  the  fiery  Duke ;  though  William's 
displeasure  gave  way  at  "  the  decent  joke  "  (Jocus  decens),  recorded 
in  the  text.  At  Rome,  however,  his  influence,  arguments,  and 
eloquence,  were  all  enlisted  on  the  side  of  William  :  and  it  was  to 
the  scholar  of  Pavia  that  the  great  Norman  owed  the  ultimate 
sanction  of  his  marriage,  and  the  repeal  of  the  interdict  that  ex- 
communicated his  realm. 2 

At  Rome  he  assisted  in  the  council  held  10.59  (the  year  wherein 
the  ban  of  the  Church  was  finally  and  formally  taken  from  Nor- 
mandy, at  which  the  famous  Berenger,  Archdeacon  of  Angers 
(against  whom  he  had  waged  a  polemical  controversy  that  did  more 
than  all  else  to  secure  his  repute  at  the  Pontifical  Court),  al)jured 
"  his  here.sies  "  as  to  the  Real  Presence  in  the  sacrament  of  the 
Eucharist. 

In  1062,  or  1063,  Duke  William,  against  the  Lomt^ard's  own  will 
(for  Lanfranc  genuinely  loved  the  liberty  of  letters  more  than 
vulgar  power),  raised  him  to  the  abbacy  of  St.  Stephen  of  Caen. 
From  that  time,  his  ascendancy  over  his  haughty  lord  was  abso- 
lute. The  contemporary  historian  ( William  of  Poitiers)  says  that 
"  William  respected  him  as  a  father,  venerated  him  as  a  preceptor, 
and  cherished  him  as  a  brother  or  son."  He  confided  to  him  his 
own  designs  ;  and  committed  to  him  the  entire  superintendence  of 
the  ecclesiastical  orders  throughout  Normandy.  Eminent  no  less 
for  his  practical  genius  in  affairs,  than  for  his  rare  piety  and  tlieo- 
logical  learning,  Lanfranc  attained  indeed  to  the  true  ideal  of  the 

1  Orderic  Vital,  lib.  4. 

2  The  date  ot  William's  marriage  has  been  variously  stated  in  English  and 
Norman  history,  but  is  usu:illy  fixed  in  1051-2.  M.  Pkiquet,  however,  in  a  note 
to  his  edition  of  the  "  Roman  de  Rou,"  says  that  the  only  authority  for  tlie 
date  of  that  marriage  is  in  the  (^hronicle  of  Tours,  and  it  is  there  referred  to 
1053.  It  would  seem  that  the  Papal  excommunication  was  not  actually  taken 
off  till  1059  ;  nor  the  formal  dispensation  for  the  marriage  granted  till  1063. 


NOTES.  335 

Scholar ;  to  whom,  of  all  men,  nothing  that  is  human  should  be 
foreign  ;  whose  closet  is  but  a  hermit's  cell,  unless  it  is  the  micro- 
cosm that  embraces  the  mart  and  the  forum  ;  who,  by  the  reflec- 
tive part  of  his  nature,  seizes  the  higiier  region  of  philosophy  — 
by  tJie  energetic,  is  attracted  to  the  central  focus  of  action.  For 
scholarship  is  but  the  parent  of  ideas ;  and  ideas  are  tlie  parents  of 
action. 

After  the  Conquest,  as  prelate  of  Canterbury,  Lanfranc  became 
the  second  man  in  tiie  kmgdom  —  happy,  perhaps,  for  England 
had  he  been  the  first ;  for  all  the  anecdotes  recorded  of  him  show 
a  deep  and  geuuiue  sympathy  with  the  oppressed  population.  But 
William  the  King  of  the  English  escaped  from  the  control  which 
Lanfranc  had  imposed  on  the  Duke  of  the  Normans.  The  scholar 
had  strengthened  the  aspirer  ;  he  could  only  imperfectly  influence 
the  Conqueror. 

Lanfranc  was  not,  it  is  true,  a  faultless  character.  He  was  a 
priest,  a  lawyer,  and  a  man  of  the  world  —  three  characters  hard 
to  amalgamate  into  perfection',  es])ecia]ly  in  the  eleventh  century. 
But  he  stands  in  gigantic  and  brilliant  contrast  to  the  rest  of  our 
priesthood  in  his  own  day,  both  in  the  superiority  of  his  virtues, 
and  in  liis  exemption  from  the  ordinary  vices.  He  regarded  the 
cruelties  of  (Jdo  of  Bayeux  with  detestation,  opposed  hivn  with 
firmness,  and  ultimately,  to  the  joy  of  all  England,  ruined  his 
power.  He  gave  a  great  impetus  to  learning;  he  set  a  high 
example  to  his  monks,  in  his  freedom  from  the  mercenary 
sins  of  their  order ;  he  laid  tlie  foundations  of  a  powerful  and 
splendid  church,  which,  only  because  it  failed  in  future  Lanfraucs, 
failed  in  effecting  the  civilization  of  which  he  designed  it  to  be 
the  instrument.  He  refused  to  crown  William  Rufus,  until  that 
king  had  sworn  to  govern  according  to  law  and  to  right ;  and 
died,  though  a  Norman  usurper,  honored  and  beloved  by  the  Saxon 
people. 

Scholar,  and  morning  star  of  light  in  the  dark  age  of  force  and 
fraud,  it  is  easier  to  praise  thy  life  than  to  track,  through  *^he 
length  of  centuries,  all  the  measureless  and  invisible  benefits  which 
the  life  of  one  scholar  bequeaths  to  the  world  —  in  the  souls  it 
awakens  —  in  the  thoughts  it  suggests  !  ^ 

^  For  authorities  for  the  above  sketch,  aud  for  m.any  intere'tinsr  details  of 
Lanfranc's  character,  see  Orderie.  Vital.  Hen.  de  Kuyghton,  Ub.  ii.  Qervasius  ; 
and  the  life  of  Lanfranc,  to  be  found  lu  the  collection  of  his  Works,  &c. 


oo 


36  NOTES. 

Page  88.     Edward  the  Confessor's  reply  to  Magnus  op 
Denmark,  who  claimed  his  Crown. 

Ou  rare  occasions  Edward  was  not  without  touches  of  a  brave 
kingly  nature. 

Suorro  Sturleson  gives  us  a  noble  and  spirited  reply  of  the  Con- 
fessor to  Magnus,  who,  as  heir  of  Canute,  claimed  the  Engli.<h 
crown;  it  concludes  thus  —  "Now,  he  (Hardicanute)  died,  and 
then  it  was  the  resolution  of  all  the  people  of  the  country  to  take 
me  for  the  king  here  in  England.  So  long  as  I  had  no  knigly  tide 
I  served  my  superiors  in  all  respects,  like  those  who  had  no  claims 
by  birth  to  land  or  kingdom.  Now,  however,  I  have  received  the 
kingly  title,  and  I  am  consecrated  king;  I  have  established  my 
royal  dignity  and  authority,  as  my  father  before  me  ;  and  while  I 
live,  1  will  not  renounce  my  title.  If  King  Magnus  comes  here 
with  an  army,  I  will  gather  no  army  against  him ;  but  lie  shall 
only  get  the  opportunity  of  taking  England  when  he  has  taken  my 
life.  Tell  him  these  words  of  mine."  If  we  may  consider  this 
reply  to  be  atitlientic,  it  is  significant,  as  proof  that  Edward  rests 
his  title  on  tlie  resolution  of  the  people  to  take  him  for  king ;  and 
counts  as  nothing,  in  comparison,  his  hereditary  claims.  Tliis,  to- 
getlicr  with  the  general  tone  of  the  reply,  particularly  the  passage 
in  wliich  he  implies  that  he  trusts  his  defence  not  to  his  arm}'  but 
his  people  —  makes  it  probable  that  Godwin  dictated  the  answer; 
and,  indeed,  Edward  himself  could  not  have  couched  it,  either  in 
Saxon  or  Danish.  But  the  king  is  equally  entitled  to  the  credit  of 
it,  whether  he  composed  it,  or  whether  he  merely  approved  and 
sanctioned  its  gallant  tone  and  its  princely  sentiment. 

Page  91.     Heralds. 

So  much  of  the  "  pride,  pomp,  and  circumstance "  which  invest 
the  Age  of  Chivalry  is  borrowed  from  these  companions  of  princes, 
and  blazoners  of  noble  deeds,  that  it  may  interest  the  reader,  if  I 
set  briefl}'  before  him  what  our  best  antiquaries  have  said  as  to 
their  first  appearance  in  our  own  history. 

Camden  (somewhat,  I  fear,  too  rashly)  says,  that  "  their  reputa- 
tion, honor,  and  name  began  in  the  time  of  Charlemagne."  The 
first  mention  of  heralds  in  England  occurs  in  the  reign  of  Edward 
III.,  a  reign  in  which  chivalry  was  at  its  dazzling  zenith.  Whit- 
lock  says,  ■■  that  some  derive  the  name  of  Herald  from  Hereauld." 
a  Saxon  word  (old  soldier,  or  old  master),  "  because  anciently  they 


NOTES.  337 

were  chosen  from  veteran  soldiers."  Joseph  Holland  says,  "I 
find  that  Malcolm,  King  of  Scots,  sent  a  herald  unto  William  the 
Conqueror,  to  treat  of  a  peace,  when  both  armies  were  in  order  of 
battle."  Agard  affirms,  that  "  at  the  Conquest  there  was  no  prac- 
tice of  heraldry  ; "  and  observes,  truly,  "  that  ihe  Conqueror  used 
a  monk  for  his  messenger  to  King  Harold." 

To  this  I  may  add,  that  monks  or  priests  also  fulfil  the  office  of 
heralds  in  the  old  French  and  Xorman  Chronicles.  Thus  Charles 
the  Simple  sends  an  archbishop  to  treat  with  Rolfganger;  Louis 
the  Debonair  sends  to  Mormon,  chief  of  the  Bretons,  "  a  sage  and 
prudent  abliot."  But  in  the  Saxon  times,  the  nuncius  (a  word 
still  used  in  heraldic  Latin)  was  in  the  regular  service  both  of  the 
king  and  the  great  earls.  The  Saxon  name  for  such  a  messenger 
was  bode,  and  when  employed  in  hostile  negotiations,  he  was  styled 
war-bode.  The  messengers  between  Godwin  and  the  king  would 
seem,  by  the  general  sense  of  the  chronicles,  to  have  been  certain 
thegus  acting  as  mediators. 

Page  1 26.     The  Fylgia,  or  Tutelary  Spirit. 

This  lovely  superstition  in  the  Scandinavian  belief  is  the  more 
remarkable,  because  it  does  not  appear  in  the  creed  of  the  Ger- 
manic Teutons,  and  is  closely  allied  with  the  good  angel,  or  guar- 
dian genius,  of  the  Persians.  It  forms,  therefore,  one  of  the 
arguments  that  favor  the  Asiatic  origin  of  the  Norsemen. 

The  Fylgia  {^following  or  attendant  spirit)  was  always  represented 
as  a  female.  Her  influence  was  not  uniformly  favorable,  though 
such  was  its  general  characteristic.  She  was  capable  of  revenge 
if  neglected,  but  had  the  devotion  of  her  sex  when  properly 
treated.  Mr.  Grenville  Pigott,  in  his  popular  work,  entitled  "  A 
ISIanual  of  Scandinavian  ^Mythology,  "relates  an  interesting  legend 
with  respect  to  one  of  these  supernatural  ladies ;  — 

A  Scandinavian  warrior,  Halfred  Vandn^dakald,  having  em- 
braced Christianity,  and  being  attacked  by  a  disease  which  he 
thought  mortal,  was  naturally  anxious  that  a  spirit  who  had  ac- 
companied him  through  his  pagan  career  should  not  attend  him 
into  that  other  world,  where  her  society  might  involve  him  in  dis- 
agreeable consequences.  The  persevering  Fylgia,  however,  in  the 
shape  of  a  fair  maiden,  walked  on  the  waves  of  the  sea  after  her 
viking's  ship.  She  came  thus  in  sight  of  all  the  crew ;  and  Hal- 
fred, recognizing  his  Fylgia,  told  her  point  blank  that  their  con- 
nection was  at  an  end  forever.     The  forsaken  Fylgia  had  a  high 

VOL.  1.  —  22 


338  NOTES. 

spirit  of  her  own,  and  she  then  asked  Thorold  "  if  he  would  take 
her."  Thorold  nngallautly  refused ;  but  Halfred  the  younger 
said,  "  Maiden,  I  will  take  thee."  ^ 

111  the  various  Norse  Saga  there  are  many  anecdotes  of  these 
spirits,  who  are  always  charming,  because,  with  their  less  earthly 
attributes,  they  always  bleud  something  of  the  woman.  The  poetry 
embodied  in  their  existence  is  of  a  softer  and  more  humane  char- 
acter than  that  common  with  the  stern  and  vast  demons  of  the 
Scandinavian  mythology. 

Page  138.     The     Origin  of  Earl  Godwin. 

Sharon  Turner  quotes  from  the  Knytlinga  Saga  what  he  calls 
"  an  explanation  of  ( jodwin's  career  or  parentage,  which  no  other 
document  affords  "  —  namely,  "  that  Ulf ,  a  Danish  chief,  after  the 
battle  of  Skorstein,  between  Canute  and  Edmund  Ironsides,  pur- 
sued the  English  fugitives  into  a  wood,  lost  his  way,  met  on  the 
morning  a  Saxon  youth  driving  cattle  to  their  pasture,  asked  him 
to  direct  him  in  safety  to  Canute's  ships,  and  offered  him  the 
bribe  of  a  gold  ring  for  his  guidance.  The  young  herdsman  re- 
fused the  bribe,  but  sheltered  the  Dane  in  the  cottage  of  his 
father  (who  is  represented  as  a  mere  jjeasant),  and  conducted  him 
the  next  morning  to  the  Danish  camp ;  previously  to  which,  the 
youth's  father  represented  to  Ulf,  that  his  son,  Godwin,  could 
never,  after  aiding  a  Dane  to  escape,  rest  in  safety  with  his  coun- 
trymen, and  besought  him  to  liefriend  his  son's  fortunes  with 
Canute."  The  Dane  promised,  and  kept  his  word  :  hence  God- 
win's rise.  Thierry,  in  his  "  History  of  the  Norman  Conquest,"  tells 
the  same  story,  on  the  authority  of  Torfreus,  "  Hist.  Rer.  Norweg." 
Now.  I  need  not  say  to  any  scholar  in  our  early  history,  that  the 
Norse  Chronicles,  abounding  with  romance  and  legend,  are  never 
to  be  received  as  authorities  counter  to  our  own  records,  though 
occasionally  valuable  to  supply  omissions  in  the  latter ,  and,  un- 
fortunately for  this  pretty  story,  we  have  against  it  the  direct 
statements  of  the  very  best  authorities  we  possess,  —  namely,  the 
Saxon  Chronicle  and  Florence  of  Worcester.  The  Saxon  Chron- 
icle expressly  tells  us  that  Godwin's  father  was  Childe  of  Sussex 
(Florence  calls  him  minister  or  thegn  of  Sussex),- and  that  Wul- 
noth   was   nephew   to   Edric,  the   all-powerful    Earl   or  Duke   of 

'  Pigott's  '•  Scancl.  Mythol."  p.  360.     Half.  Vand.  Saga. 
*  "  Suthsaxouum  Ministrum  Wolfnothem."     Flor.  \VJg. 


NOTES.  339 

Mercia.     Florence  confirms  this  statement,  and  gives  the  pedigree, 
which  may  be  deduced  as  follows :  — 


Edric  married  Edgith,  Egelric, 

daughter  of  King  Ethelred  II.  surnained  Leofwine. 

Egelmar. 

Wolnoth. 

I 
Godwin. 

Thus  this  "  old  peasant,"  as  the  North  Chronicles  call  Wolnoth, 
was,  according  to  our  most  unquestionable  authorities,  a  tliegn  of 
one  of  the  most  important  divisions  in  England,  and  a  member  of 
the  most  powerful  family  in  the  kingdom !  Now,  if  our  Saxon 
authorities  needed  any  aid  from  probabilities,  it  is  scarcely  worth 
asking  which  is  the  more  probable,  that  the  sou  of  a  Saxon  herds- 
man should  in  a  few  years  rise  to  such  power  as  to  marry  the  sister 
of  the  royal  Danish  Conqueror  —  or  that  that  honor  should  be 
conferred  on  the  most  able  member  of  a  house  already  allied  to 
Saxon  royalty,  and  which  evidently  retained  its  power  after  the 
fall  of  its  head,  the  treacherous  Edric  Streoue !  Even  after  the 
Conquest,  one  of  Streone's  nephews,  Edricus  Sylvaticus,  is  men- 
tioned (Simon.  Dunelm.)  as  "a  very  powerful  thegn."  Upon  the 
whole,  the  account  given  of  Godwin's  rise  in  the  text  of  the  work 
appears  the  most  correct  that  conjectures,  based  on  our  scanty  his- 
torical information,  will  allow. 

In  1009  A.  D.,  Wolnoth,  the  Childe  or  Thegn  of  Sussex,  defeats 
the  fleets  of  Ethelred,  under  his  uncle  Brightric,  and  goes  therefore 
into  rebellion.  Thus  when,  in  1014  (five  years  afterwards),  Ca- 
nute is  chosen  king  by  all  the  fleet,  it  is  probable  that  Wolnoth,  and 
Godwin  his  son,  espoused  his  cause  ;  and  that  Godwin,  subsequently 
presented  to  Canute  as  a  young  noble  of  great  promise,  was  fav- 
ored by  that  sagacious  king,  and  ultimately  honored  with  the 
hand,  first  of  his  sister,  secondly  of  his  niece,  as  a  mode  of  concili- 
ating the  Sa.xon  thegns. 

Page  280.    The  want  of  Fortresses  in  England. 

The  Saxons  were  sad  destroyers.  They  destroyed  the  strong- 
holds which  the  Briton  had  received  from  the  Roman,  and  built 
very  few  others.  Thus  the  land  was  left  open  to  the  Danes. 
Alfred,  sensible  of  this  defect,  repaired  the  walls  of  London,  and 


340  NOTES. 

other  cities,  and  nrgently  recommended  his  nobles  and  prelates  to 
build  fortresses,  but  could  not  persuade  them.  His  great-souled 
daughter,  Elfleda,  was  the  only  imitator  of  his  example.  She 
built  eight  castles  iu  three  years.^ 

It  was  tlms  that  in  a  country,  iu  which  the  general  features  do 
not  allow  of  protracted  warfare,  the  inhabitants  were  always  at 
the  hazard  of  a  single  pitched  battle.  Subsequent  to  the  Con- 
quest, in  the  reign  of  John,  it  was,  in  truth,  the  strong  castle  of 
Dover,  on  the  siege  of  which  Prince  Louis  lost  so  much  time,  that 
saved  the  realm  of  England  from  passing  to  a  French  djmasty ; 
and  as,  in  later  periods,  strongholds  fell  again  into  decay,  so  it  is 
remarkable  to  observe  how  easily  the  country  was  overrun  after 
any  signal  victory  of  one  of  the  contending  parties.  In  this  truth, 
the  Wars  of  the  Roses  abound  with  much  instruction.  The  hand- 
ful of  foreign  mercenaries  with  which  Henry  VII.  won  his  crown, 
—  though  the  real  heir,  the  Earl  of  Warwick  (granting  Edward 
IV.'s  children  to  be  illegiLimate,  which  they  clearly  were  accord- 
ing to  the  rites  of  the  Church),  had  never  lost  his  claim,  by  the 
defeat  of  Richard  at  Bosworth  ;  —  the  march  of  the  Pretender  to 
Derby,  the  dismay  it  spread  througliout  England,  and  the  cer- 
tainty of  his  conquest  had  he  proceeded ;  —  the  easy  victory  of 
William  III.  at  a  time  when  certainly  the  bulk  of  the  nation  was 
opposed  to  his  cause ;  —  are  all  facts  pregnant  with  warnings,  to 
which  we  are  as  blind  as  we  were  in  the  days  of  Alfred. 

Page  309.     The  Ruins  of  Penmaen-mawr. 

In  Camden's  "  Brittania  "  there  is  an  account  of  the  remarkable 
relics  assigned,  in  the  text,  to  the  last  refuge  of  Gryffyth-ap-Lle- 
wellyn,  taken  from  a  manuscript  by  Sir  John  Wynne  in  the  time 
of  Charles  I.  In  this  account  are  minutely  described,  "  ruinous 
walls  of  an  exceeding  strong  fortification,  compassed  with  a  treble 
wall,  and,  within  each  wall,  the  foundations  of  at  least  one  hun- 
dred towers,  about  six  yards  iu  diameter  within  the  walls.  This 
castle  seems  (while  it  stood)  impregnable;  there  being  no  way  to 
offer  any  assault  on  it,  the  hill  being  so  very  high,  steep,  and 
rocky,  and  the  walls  of  such  strength,  —  the  way  or  entrance  into 
it  ascendiug  with  many  turnings,  so  that  one  hundred  men  might 
defend  themselves  against  a  whole  legion  ;  and  yet  it  should  seem 
that  there  were  lodgings  within  those  walls  for  twenty  thousand 
men. 

1  AssEB  :  "  De  Reb.  Gest.  Alf.,"  pp.  17,  18. 


NOTES.  341 

"By  the  tradition  we  receive  from  our  ancestors,  this  was  the 
strongest  refuge  or  place  of  defence  that  the  ancient  Britons  had 
in  all  Snowdon ;  moreover,  the  greatness  of  the  work  shows  that 
it  was  a  princely  fortification,  strengthened  by  nature  and  work- 
manship."^ 

But  in  the  year  1771,  Governor  Pownall  ascended  Penmaen- 
mawr,  inspected  these  remains,  and  published  his  account  in  the 
"  ArchiEologia,"  a'oI.  iii.  p.  303,  with  a  sketch  both  of  the  mount 
and  the  walls  at  the  summit.  The  Governor  is  of  opinion  that  it 
never  was  a  fortification.  He  thinks  that  the  inward  enclosure 
contained  a  earn  (or  arch-Druid's  sepulchre),  that  there  is  not  room 
for  any  lodgement,  that  the  walls  are  not  of  a  kind  which  can  form 
a  cover,  and  give  at  the  same  time  the  advantage  of  fighting  from 
them.  In  short,  that  the  place  was  one  of  the  Druids'  consecrated 
high  places  of  worship.  He  adds,  however,  that  "  Mr.  Pennant 
has  gone  twice  over  it,  intends  to  make  an  actual  survey,  and 
anticipates  much  from  that  great  antiquary's  knowledge  and 
accuracy." 

We  turn  next  to  Mr.  Pennant,  and  we  find  him  giving  a  flat 
contradiction  to  the  Governor.  "  I  have  more  than  once,"  ^  says 
lie,  "  visited  this  noted  rock,  to  view  the  fortifications  described  by 
the  editor  of  Camden,  from  some  notes  of  that  sensible  old  baro- 
net. Sir  John  Wynne,  of  Gwidir,  and  have  found  his  account  very 
just. 

"  The  fronts  of  three,  if  not  four  walls,  presented  themselves 
very  distinctly  one  above  the  other.  I  measured  the  height  of  one 
wall,  which  was  at  the  time  nine  feet,  the  thickness  seven  feet  and 
a  half."  (Now,  Governor  Pownall  also  measured  the  walls,  agrees 
pretty  well  with  Pennant  as  to  their  width,  but  makes  them  only 
five  feet  high.)  "Between  these  walls,  in  all  parts,  were  innu- 
merable small  buildings,  mostly  circular.  These  had  been  much 
higher,  as  is  evident  from  the  fall  of  stones  which  lie  scattered  at 
their  bottoms,  and  probably  had  once  the  form  of  towers,  as  Sir 
John  asserts.  Their  diameter  is,  in  general,  from  twelve  to  eigh- 
teen feet  (ample  room  here  for  lodgement)  ;  the  walls  were  in  cer- 
tain places  intersected  with  others  equally  strong.  This  strong- 
hold of  the  Britons  is  exactly  of  the  same  kind  with  those  on  Carn 
Madryn,  Cam  Boduau,  and  Tre'r  Caer. 

1  Camden  ;  "  Caernarvonshire." 

2  Pennant's  "  Wales,"  vol.  ii.  p.  146. 


342  NOTES. 

"  This  was  most  judiciously  chosen  to  cover  the  passage  into 
Anglesea,  and  the  remoter  part  of  their  country ;  and  must,  from 
its  vast  strength,  have  been  invulnerable,  except  by  famine  ;  being 
inaccessible  by  its  natural  steepness  towards  the  sea,  and  on  the 
parts  fortified  in  the  manner  described."  So  far,  Pennant  versus 
Pownall !  "  Who  shall  decide  when  doctors  disagree  ? "  The 
opinion  of  both  these  antiquarians  is  liable  to  demur.  Governor 
Pownall  might  probably  be  a  better  judge  of  military  defences 
than  Pennant ;  but  he  evidently  forms  his  notions  of  defence  with 
imperfect  knowledge  of  the  forts,  which  would  have  amply  sufficed 
for  the  warfare  of  the  ancient  Britons  ;  and  moreover,  he  was  one 
of  those  led  astray  by  Bryant's  crotchets  as  to  "  High  places,"  &c. 
What  appears  most  probable  is,  that  the  place  was  both  earn  and 
fort ;  that  the  strength  of  the  place,  and  the  convenience  of  stones, 
suggested  the  surrounding  the  narrow  area  of  the  central  sepul- 
chre with  walls,  intended  for  refuge  and  defence.  As  to  the  cir- 
cular buildings,  which  seem  to  have  puzzled  these  antiquaries,  it  is 
strange  that  they  appear  to  have  overlooked  the  accounts  which 
serve  best  to  explain  them.  Strabo  says  that  "  the  houses  of  the 
Britons  were  round,  with  a  high  pointed  covering ; "  Cifisar  says 
that  they  were  only  lighted  by  the  door ;  in  the  Antonine  Column 
they  are  represented  as  circular,  with  an  arched  entrance,  single  or 
double.  They  were  always  small,  and  seem  to  have  contained  but 
a  single  room.  These  circular  buildings  were  not,  therefore,  ne- 
cessarily Druidical  cells,  as  has  been  supposed  ;  nor  perhaps  actual 
towers,  as  contended  for  by  Sir  John  Wynne  ;  but  habitations, 
after  the  usual  fashion  of  British  houses,  for  the  inmates  or  garri- 
son of  the  enclosure.  Taking  into  account  the  traditions  of  the 
spot  mentioned  by  Sir  John  Wynne,  and  other  traditions  still 
existing,  which  mark,  in  the  immediate  neighborhood,  the  scenes 
of  legendary  battles,  it  is  hoped  that  the  reader  will  accept  the 
description  in  the  text  as  suggesting,  amidst  conflicting  authori- 
ties, the  most  probable  supposition  of  the  nature  and  character  of 
these  very  interesting  remains  in  the  eleventh  century,^  and  during 
the  most  memorable  invasion  of  Wales  (under  Harold),  wliich 
occurred  between  the  time  of  Geraint,  or  Arthur,  and  that  of 
Henry  II. 

1  The  ruins  still  extant  are  much  diminished  since  the  time  even  of  Pownall  or 
Pennant  :  and  must  be  indeed  inconsiderable,  compared  with  the  buildings  or 
walls  which  existed  at  the  date  of  my  tale. 


NOTES.  343 

Page  310.     The  Idol  Bel. 

Mous.  Johauneau  considers  that  Bel,  or  Belinus,  is  derived  from 
the  Greek,  a  surname  of  Apollo,  aud  means  the  archer ;  from 
6e/os,  a  dart  or  arrow. ^ 

I  own  I  think  this  among  the  spurious  conceits  of  the  learned, 
suggested  hy  vague  affinities  of  name.  But  it  is  quite  as  likely  (if 
there  be  anything  in  tlie  conjecture)  that  the  Celt  tauglit  the 
Greek  as  that  the  Greek  taught  the  Celt. 

There  are  some  very  interesting  questions,  however,  for  scholars 
to  discuss,  —  namely,  1st,  When  did  the  Celts  first  introduce  idols  ? 
2d,  Can  we  believe  the  classical  authorities  that  assure  us  that  the 
Druids  originally  admitted  no  idol  worship  ''  If  so,  we  find  the 
chief  idols  of  the  Druids  cited  by  Lucan  ;  and  they  therefore  ac- 
quired them  long  before  Lucau's  time.  From  whom  would  they 
acquire  them?  Not  from  the  Romans;  for  the  Roman  gods  are 
not  the  least  similar  to  the  Celtic,  when  the  last  are  fairly  exam- 
ined. Not  from  the  Teutons,  from  whose  deities  those  of  the  Celt 
equally  differ.  Have  we  not  given  too  much  faith  to  the  classic 
writers,  who  assert  the  original  simplicity  of  the  Druid  worship  ? 
And  will  not  their  popular  idols  be  found  to  be  as  ancient  as  the 
remotest  traces  of  the  Celtic  existence  ^  Would  not  the  Cimmerii 
have  transported  them  from  the  period  of  tiieir  first  traditional 
immigration  from  the  East  ^  and  is  not  their  Bel  identical  with 
the  Babylonian  deity  ? 

1  JOHANN.  :  "  Ap.  Acad.  Celt.,"  torn.  iii.  p.  151. 


HAROLD. 

PART   SECOND. 


Edith,  the  Christian  maid,  dwelt  in  the  home  of  Hilda, 
the  heathen  prophetess. 

Harold. 


HAEOLD, 

THE   LAST   OF   THE   SAXON   KINGS. 


BOOK  VIII. 


PATE. 


CHAPTER    L 

Some  days  after  the  tragical  event  with  which  the  last 
chapter  closed,  the  ships  of  the  Saxons  were  assembled 
in  the  wide  waters  of  Conway  ;  and  on  the  small  fore- 
deck  of  the  stateliest  vessel  stood  Harold,  bare-headed, 
before  Aldyth  the  widowed  queen.  For  the  faithful 
bard  had  fallen  by  the  side  of  his  lord  ;  the  dark  promise 
was  unfulfilled,  and  the  mangled  clay  of  the  jealous 
Gryffyth  slept  alone  in  the  narrow  bed.  A  chair  of  state, 
with  dossel  and  canopy,  was  set  for  the  daughter  of  Algar, 
and  behind  stood  maidens  of  Wales,  selected  in  haste  for 
her  attendants. 

But  Aldyth  had  not  seated  herself ;  and,  side  by  side 
with  her  dead  lord's  great  victor,  thus  she  spoke  :  — 

"  Woe  worth  the  day  and  the  hour  when  Aldyth  left 
the  hall  of  her  fathers,  and  the  land  of  her  birth  !  Her 
robe  of  a  queen  has  been  rent  and  torn  over  an  aching 
heart,  and  the  air  she  has  breathed  has  reeked  as  with 

VOL.  11.  —  1 


2  HAROLD. 

blood.  I  go  forth,  widowed,  and  homeless,  and  lonely  ; 
but  my  feet  shall  press  the  soil  of  my  sires,  and  my  lips 
draw  the  breath  which  came  sweet  and  pure  to  my  child- 
hood. And  thou,  0  Harold,  standest  beside  me  like  the 
shape  of  my  own  youth,  and  the  dreams  of  old  come  back 
at  the  sound  of  thy  voice.  Fare  thee  well,  noble  heait 
and  true  Saxon.  Thou  hast  twice  saved  the  child  of  thy 
foe, —  first  from  shame,  then  from  famine.  Thou  wouldst 
have  saved  my  dread  lord  from  open  force  and  dark 
murder ;  but  the  saints  were  wroth  :  the  blood  of  my 
kinsfolk,  shed  by  liis  hand,  called  for  vengeance,  and 
the  shrines  he  had  pillaged  and  burned  murmured  doom 
from  their  desolate  altars.  Peace  be  with  the  dead,  and 
peace  with  the  living  !  I  shall  go  back  to  my  father  and 
brethren  ;  and  if  the  fame  and  life  of  child  and  sister  be 
dear  to  them,  their  swords  will  never  more  leave  their 
sheaths  against  Harold.  So  thy  hand,  and  God  guard 
thee  !  " 

Harold  raised  to  his  lips  tlie  hand  which  the  queen 
extended  to  him  ;  and  to  Aldyth  now  seemed  restored  the 
rare  beauty  of  her  youth,  —  as  pride  and  sorrow  gave  her 
the  charm  of  emotion,  which  love  and  duty  had  failed  to 
bestow. 

"  Life  and  health  to  thee,  noble  lady,"  said  the  earl. 
"Tell  thy  kindred  from  me,  that  for  thy  sake,  and  thy 
grandsire's,  I  would  fain  be  their  brother  and  friend ; 
were  they  but  united  with  me,  all  England  were  now 
safe  against  every  foe  and  each  peril.  Thy  daughter 
already  awaits  thee  in  the  halls  of  Morcar ;  and  wlien 
time  has  scarred  the  wounds  of  the  past,  may  the  joys 
re-bloom  in  the  face  of  thy  child.  Farewell,  noble 
Aldyth  ! " 

He  dropped  the  hand  he  had  held  till  tlien,  turned 
slowly  to  the  side  of  the  vessel,  and  re-entered  his  boat. 


HAROLD.  3 

As  he  was  rowed  back  to  shore,  the  horn  gave  the  signal 
for  raising  anchor,  and  the  ship,  righting  itself,  moved 
majestically  through  the  midst  of  the  fleet.  But  Aldyth 
still  stood  erect,  and  her  eyes  followed  the  boat  that  bore 
away  the  secret  love  of  her  youth. 

As  Harold  reached  the  shore,  Tostig  and  the  JSTorman, 
who  had  been  conversing  amicably  together  on  the  beach, 
advanced  towards  the  earl. 

"  Brother,"  said  Tostig,  smiling,  "  it  were  easy  for  thee 
to  console  the  fair  widow,  and  bring  to  our  House  all  the 
force  of  East  Anglia  and  Mercia."  Harold's  face  slightly 
changed,  but  he  made  no  answer. 

"A  marvellous  fair  dame,"  said  the  Norman,  "not- 
withstanding her  cheek  be  somewhat  pinched,  and  the 
hue  sunburnt.  And  I  wonder  not  that  the  poor  cat- 
king  kept  her  so  close  to  his  side." 

"  Sir  Norman,"  said  the  earl,  hastening  to  change  the 
subject,  "  the  war  is  now  over,  and  for  long  years  Wales 
will  leave  our  Marches  in  peace.  This  eve  I  propose  to  ride 
hence  towards  London,  and  we  will  converse  by  the  way." 

"  Go  you  so  soon  1  "  cried  the  knight,  surprised. 
"Shall  you  not  take  means  utterly  to  subjugate  this 
troublesome  race,  parcel  out  the  lands  among  your  thegns, 
to  hold  as  martial  fiefs  at  need,  build  towers  and  forts  on 
the  heights,  and  at  the  river-mouths  1  —  where  a  site, 
like  this,  for  some  fair  castle  and  vawmure  ?  In  a  word, 
do  you  Saxons  merely  overrun,  and  neglect  to  hold  what 
you  win  ? " 

"  We  fight  in  self-defence,  not  for  conquest.  Sir  Nor- 
man. AVe  have  no  skill  in  building  castles ;  and  I  pray 
you  not  to  hint  to  my  thegns  the  conceit  of  dividing  a 
land,  as  thieves  would  their  plunder.  King  Grytfyth  is 
dead,  and  his  brothers  will  reign  in  his  stead.  England 
has    guarded    her    realm,   and    chastised    the    aggressors. 


4  HAROLD. 

Wliat  need  England  do  more  1  We  are  not,  like  our  first 
barbarous  fathers,  carving  out  homes  with  the  scythe  of 
their  saexes.  The  wave  settles  after  the  flood,  and  the 
races  of  men  after  lawless  convulsions." 

Tostig  smiled  in  disdain  at  the  knight,  who  mused  a 
little  over  the  strange  Avords  he  had  heard,  and  then 
silently  followed  the  earl  to  the  fort. 

But  when  Harold  gained  his  chamber,  he  found  there 
an  express,  arrived  in  haste  from  Cliester,  with  the  news 
that  Algar,  the  sole  enemy  and  single  rival  of  his  power, 
was  no  more.  Fever,  occasioned  by  neglected  wounds, 
had  stretched  him  impotent  on  a  bed  of  sickness,  and  his 
fierce  passions  had  aided  the  march  of  disease  ;  the  rest- 
less and  profitless  race  was  run. 

The  first  emotion  which  these  tidings  called  forth  was 
that  of  pain.  The  bold  sympathize  with  the  bold ;  and 
in  great  hearts  there  is  always  a  certain  friendship  for  a 
gallant  foe.  But  recovering  the  shock  of  that  first  im- 
pression, Harold  could  not  but  feel  that  England  was 
freed  from  its  most  dangerous  subject,  —  himself  from 
the  only  obstacle  apparent  to  the  fulfilment  of  his  lumi- 
nous career. 

"  Now,  then,  to  London,"  whispered  the  voice  of  his 
ambition.  "  Not  a  foe  rests  to  trouble  the  peace  of  that 
empire  which  thy  conquests,  0  Harold,  have  made  more 
secure  and  compact  than  ever  yet  has  been  the  realm  of 
the  Saxon  kings.  Thy  way  through  the  country  that 
thou  hast  henceforth  delivered  from  tlie  fire  and  sword  of 
the  mountain  ravager,  will  be  one  march  of  triumph, 
like  a  Roman's  of  old  ;  and  the  voice  of  the  people  will 
echo  the  hearts  of  the  army  ;  those  hearts  are  thine  own. 
Verily  Hilda  is  a  prophetess ;  and  when  Eld  ward  rests 
with  the  saints,  from  what  English  heart  will  not  burst 
the  cry,  '  Long  live  Harold  the  King  '  1 " 


HAROLD. 


CHAPTER   II. 

The  Norman  rode  by  the  side  of  Harold,  in  the  rear  of 
the  victorious  armament.  The  ships  sailed  to  their  havens, 
and  Tostig  departed  to  his  northern  earldom. 

"  And  now,"  said  Harold,  "  I  am  at  leisure  to  thank 
thee,  brave  Norman,  for  more  than  thine  aid  in  council 
and  war,  —  at  leisure  now  to  turn  to  the  last  prayer  of 
Sweyn,  and  the  often-shed  tears  of  Githa  my  mother  for 
"VVolnoth  the  exile.  Thou  seest  with  thine  own  eyes  that 
there  is  no  longer  pretext  or  plea  for  thy  count  to  detain 
these  hostages.  Thou  shalt  hear  from  Edward  himself 
that  he  no  longer  asks  sureties  for  the  faith  of  the  House 
of  Godwin ;  and  I  cannot  think  that  Duke  William 
would  have  suffered  thee  to  bring  me  over  this  news  from 
the  dead  if  he  were  not  prepared  to  do  justice  to  the 
living." 

"  Your  speech.  Earl  of  Wessex,  goes  near  to  the  truth. 
But,  to  speak  plainly  and  frankly,  I  think  William,  my 
lord,  hath  a  keen  desire  to  welcome  in  person  a  chief  so 
illustrious  as  Harold,  and  I  guess  that  he  keeps  the  hos- 
tages to  make  thee  come  to  claim  them."  The  knight,  as 
he  spoke,  smiled  gayly  ;  but  the  cunning  of  the  Norman 
gleamed  in  the  quick  glance  of  his  clear  hazel  eye. 

"  Fain  must  I  feel  pride  at  such  wish,  if  you  flatter  me 
not,"  said  Harold ;  "  and  I  would  gladly  myself,  now  the 
land  is  in  peace,  and  my  presence  not  needful,  visit  a 
court  of  such  fame.  I  hear  high  praise  from  cheapman 
and  pilgrim  of  Count  William's  wise  care  for  barter  and 


6  HAROLD. 

trade,  and  might  learn  much  from  the  ports  of  the  Seine 
tliat  would  profit  the  marts  of  the  Thames.  Much,  too,  I 
hear  of  Count  William's  zeal  to  revive  the  learning  of  the 
Church,  aided  by  Lanfranc  the  Lombard  ;  much  I  hear  of 
the  pomp  of  his  buildings,  and  the  grace  of  his  court. 
All  this  would  I  cheerfully  cross  the  ocean  to  see  ;  but 
all  this  w^ould  but  sadden  my  heart  if  I  returned,  without 
Haco  and.  Wolnoth." 

"  I  dare  not  speak  so  as  to  plight  faith  for  the  duke," 
said  the  Norman,  who,  though  sharp  to  deceive,  had  that 
rein  on  his  conscience  that  it  did  not  let  him  openly  lie  ; 
"  but  this  I  do  know,  that  there  are  few  things  in  his 
countdom  which  my  lord  would  not  give  to  clasp  the  right 
hand  of  Harold,  and  feel  assured  of  his  friendship," 

Though  wise  and  far-seeing,  Harold  was  not  suspi- 
cious; —  no  Englishman,  unless  it  were  Edward  himself, 
knew  the  secret  pretensions  of  William  to  the  English 
throne  ;  and  he  answered  simply,  — 

"  It  were  well,  indeed,  both  for  ISTormandy  and  Eng- 
land, both  against  foes  and  for  trade,  to  be  allied  and 
well-liking.  I  will  think  over  your  words,  Sire  de  Gra- 
ville,  and  it  shall  not  be  my  fault  if  old  feuds  be  not  for- 
gotten, and  those  now  in  thy  court  be  the  last  hostages 
ever  kept  by  the  Norman  for  the  faith  of  the  Saxon." 

With  that  he  turned  the  discourse  ;  and  the  aspiring 
and  able  envoy,  exhilarated  by  the  hope  of  a  successful 
mission,  animated  the  way  by  remarks  —  alternately 
lively  and  shrewd  —  which  drew  the  brooding  earl  from 
those  musings  which  had  now  grown  habitual  to  a  mind 
once  clear  and  open  as  the  day. 

Harold  had  not  miscalculated  the  enthusiasm  his  vic- 
tories had  excited.  Where  he  passed,  all  the  towns 
poured  forth  their  populations  to  see  and  to  hail  him  ;  and 
on  arriving  at  the  metropolis,  the  rejoicings  in  his  honor 


HAROLD.  7 

seemed  to  equal  those  which  had  greeted,  at  the  accession 
of  Edward,  the  restoration  of  the  line  of  Cerdic. 

According  to  the  barbarous  custom  of  the  age,  the  head 
of  the  unfortunate  sub-king,  and  the  prow  of  his  special 
war-ship,  had  been  sent  to  Edward  as  the  trophies  of  con- 
quest :  but  Harold's  uniform  moderation  respected  the 
living.  The  race  of  Gryffyth  ^  were  re-established  on  the 
tributary  throne  of  that  hero,  in  the  persons  of  his 
brothers,  Blethgent  and  Kigwatle,  "  and  they  swore 
oaths,"  says  the  graphic  old  chronicler,  "  and  delivered 
hostages  to  the  king  and  the  earl  that  they  would  be 
faithful  to  him  in  all  things,  and  be  everywhere  ready  for 
him,  by  water  and  by  land,  and  make  such  renders  from 
the  land  as  had  been  done  before  to  any  other  king." 

Not  long  after  this,  Mallet  de  Graville  returned  to 
Normandy,  with  gifts  for  William  from  King  Edward, 
and  special  requests  from  that  prince,  as  well  as  from  the 
earl,  to  restore  the  hostages.  But  Mallet's  acuteness 
readily  perceived  that  in  much  Edward's  mind  had  been 
alienated  from  William.  It  was  clear  that  the  duke's 
marriage,  and  the  pledges  that  had  crowned  the  union, 
•were  distasteful  to  the  asceticism  of  the  saint-king :  and 
with  Godwin's  death,  and  Tostig's  absence  from  the  court, 
seemed  to  have  expired  all  Edward's  bitterness  towards 
that  powerful  family  of  which  Harold  was  now  the  head. 
Still,  as  no  subject  out  of  the  house  of  Cerdic  had  ever 
yet  been  elected  to  the  Saxon  throne,  there  was  no  appre- 
hension on  Mallet's  mind  that  in  Harold  was  the  true 
rival  to  William's  cherished  aspiration.?.  Though  Edward 
the  Atheling  was  dead,  his  son  Edgar  lived,  the  natural 
heir  to  the  throne  ;  and  the  Norman  (whose  liege  had 
succeeded  to  the  duchy  at  the  age  of  eigbt)  was  not  suffi- 

1  Gryffyth  left  a  son,  Caradoc;  but  he  was  put  aside  as  a  minor, 
according  to  the  Saxon  customs. 


8  HAROLD. 

ciently  cognizant  of  the  invariable  custom  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxons,  to  set  aside,  whether  for  kingdoms  or  for  earl- 
doms, all  claimants  unfitted  for  rule  by  their  tender  years. 
He  could,  indeed,  perceive  that  the  young  Atheling's 
minority  was  in  favor  of  his  Norman  liege,  and  would 
render  him  but  a  weak  defender  of  the  realm,  and  that 
there  seemed  no  popular  attachment  to  the  infant  orphan 
of  the  Germanized  exile  :  his  name  was  never  mentioned 
at  the  court,  nor  had  Edward  acknowledged  him  as  heir, 
—  a  circumstance  which  he  interpreted  auspiciously  for 
William.  Nevertheless,  it  was  clear  that,  both  at  court 
and  amongst  the  people,  the  Norman  influence  in  England 
was  at  the  lowest  ebb  ;  and  that  the  only  man  who  could 
restore  it,  and  realize  the  cherished  dreams  of  his  grasping 
lord,  was  Harold  the  all-powerful. 


HAEOLD.  9 


CHAPTER  III. 

Trusting,  for  the  time,  to  the  success  of  Edward's  urgent 
demand  for  the  release  of  his  kinsmen,  as  well  as  his 
own,  Harold  was  now  detained  at  the  court  by  all  those 
arrears  of  business  which  had  accumulated  fast  under  the 
inert  hands  of  the  monk-king  during  the  prolonged  cam- 
paigns against  the  Welsh ;  but  he  had  leisure  at  least  for 
frequent  visits  to  the  old  Roman  house  ;  and  those  visits 
were  not  more  grateful  to  his  love  than  to  the  harder  and 
more  engrossing  passion  which  divided  his  heart. 

The  nearer  he  grew  to  the  dazzling  object,  to  the  pos- 
session of  which  Fate  seemed  to  have  shaped  all  circum- 
stances, the  more  he  felt  the  charm  of  those  mystic 
influences  which  his  colder  reason  had  disdained.  He 
who  is  ambitious  of  things  afar  and  xxncertain,  passes  at 
once  into  the  Poet-Land  of  Imagination  ;  to  aspire  and  to 
imagine  are  yearnings  twin-born. 

"When  in  his  fresh  youth  and  his  calm  lofty  manhood, 
Harold  saw  action,  how  adventurous  soever,  limited  to 
the  barriers  of  noble  duty ;  when  he  lived  but  for  his 
country,  all  spread  clear  before  his  vision  in  the  sunlight 
of  day  ;  but  as  the  barriers  receded,  while  the  horizon 
extended,  his  eye  left  the  Certain  to  rest  on  the  Vague.  ,' 
As  self,  though  still  half  concealed  from  his  conscience, 
gradually  assumed  the  wide  space  love  of  country  had 
filled,  the  maze  of  delusion  commenced ;  he  was  to  shape 
fate  out  of  circumstance,  —  no  longer  defy  fate  through 
virtue  ;  and  thus  Hilda  became  to  him  as  a  voice  thai 


•10  HAROLD. 

answered  the  questions  of  his  own  restless  heart.  He 
needed  encouragement  from  the  Unknown  to  sanction  his 
desires  and  confirm  his  ends.  But  Edith,  rejoicing  in  the 
fair  fame  of  her  betrothed,  and  content  in  tlie  pure  rapt- 
ure of  beholding  him  again,  reposed  in  the  divine  credulity 
of  the  happy  hour;  she  marked  not,  in  Harold's  visits, 
that,  on  entrance,  the  earl's  eye  sought  first  the  stern  face 
of  the  Vala, —  she  wondered  not  why  those  two  conversed 
in  whispers  together,  or  stood  so  often  at  moonlight  by 
the  Runic  grave.  Alone,  of  all  womankind,  she  felt  that 
Harold  loved  her,  —  that  that  love  had  braved  time, 
absence,  change,  and  hope  deferred  ;  and  she  knew  not 
that  what  love  has  most  to  dread  in  the  wild  heart  of 
aspiring  man,  is  not  persons,  but  things,  —  is  not  things, 
but  their  symbols. 

So  weeks  and  months  rolled  on,  and  Duke  "William 
returned  no  answer  to  the  demands  for  his  hostages.  And 
Harold's  heart  smote  him,  that  he  neglected  his  brother's 
prayer  and  his  mother's  accusing  tears. 

Kow  Githa,  since  the  death  of  her  husband,  had  lived 
in  seclusion  and  apart  from  town  ;  and  one  day  Harold 
was  surprised  by  her  unexpected  arrival  at  the  large, 
timbered  house  in  London  which  had  passed  to  his  pos- 
session. As  she  abruptly  entered  the  room  in  which  he 
sat,  he  sprang  forward  to  welcome  and  embrace  her ;  but 
she  waved  him  back  with  a  grave  and  mournful  gesture, 
and,  sinking  on  one  knee,  she  said  thus  :  — 

"  See,  the  mother  is  a  suppliant  to  the  son  for  the 
son.  'No,  Harold,  no,  —  I  will  not  rise  till  thou  hast 
heard  me.  For  years,  long  and  lonely,  have  I  lingered 
and  pined, —  long  years  !  Will  my  boy  know  his  mother 
again  ?  Thou  hast  said  to  me,  '  Wait  till  the  messenger 
returns.'  I  have  waited.  Thou  hast  said,  '  This  time 
the  count  cannot  resist  the  demand  of  the  king.'    I  bowed 


HAROLD.  11 

my  head  and  submitted  to  thee  as  I  had  done  to  Godwin 
my  lord.  And  I  have  not  till  now  claimed  thy  promise  ; 
for  I  allowed  thy  country,  thy  king,  and  thy  fame  to  have 
claims  more  strong  than  a  mother.  Now  I  tarry  no  more  ; 
now  no  more  will  I  be  amused  and  deceived.  Thine 
hours  are  thine  own,  —  free  thy  coming  and  thy  going. 
Harold,  I  claim  thine  oath.  Harold,  I  touch  thy  right 
hand.  Harold,  I  remind  thee  of  thy  troth  and  thy 
plight,  to  cross  the  seas  thyself,  and  restore  the  child  to 
the  mother." 

"  Oh,  rise,  rise  ! "  exclaimed  Harold,  deeply  moved. 
"  Patient  hast  thou  been,  0  my  mother,  and  now  I  will 
linger  no  more,  nor  hearken  to  other  voice  than  your  own. 
I  will  seek  the  king  this  day,  and  ask  his  leave  to  cross 
the  sea  to  Duke  William." 

Then  Githa  rose,  and  fell  on  the  earl's  breast  weeping. 


12  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

It  so  chanced,  Avhile  this  interview  took  place  between 
Githa  and  the  earl,  that  Gurth,  hawking  in  the  woodlands 
round  Hilda's  house,  turned  aside  to  visit  his  Danish 
kinswoman.  The  prophetess  was  absent,  but  he  was  told 
that  Edith  was  within  j  and  Gurth,  about  to  be  united  to 
a  maiden  who  had  long  won  his  noble  affections,  cherished 
a  brother's  love  for  his  brother's  fair  betrothed.  He 
entered  the  gynoecium,  and  there  still,  as  when  we  were 
first  made  present  in  that  chamber,  sat  the  maids,  em- 
ployed on  a  work  more  brilliant  to  the  eye,  and  more 
pleasing  to  the  labor,  than  that  which  had  then  tasked 
their  active  hands.  They  were  broidering  into  a  tissue 
of  the  purest  gold  the  effigy  of  a  fighting  warrior,  designed 
by  Hilda  for  the  banner  of  Earl  Harold  ;  and,  removed 
from  the  awe  of  their  mistress,  as  they  worked,  their 
tongues  sang  gayly,  and  it  was  in  the  midst  of  song  and 
laughter  that  the  fair  young  Saxon  lord  entered  the 
chamber.  The  babble  and  the  mirth  ceased  at  his  entrance  ; 
each  voice  was  stilled,  each  eye  cast  down  demurely. 
Edith  was  not  amongst  them,  and  in  answer  to  his  inquiry 
the  eldest  of  the  maidens  pointed  towards  the  peristyle 
without  the  house. 

The  winning  and  kindly  thegn  paused  a  few  moments 
to  admire  the  tissue  and  commend  the  work,  and  then 
sought  the  peristyle. 

Near  the  water-spring  that  gushed  free  and  bright 
through  the  Roman  fountain,  he  found  Edith,  seated  in 


HAROLD.  13 

an  attitude  of  deep  thought  and  gloomy  dejection.  She 
started  as  he  approached,  and,  springing  forward  to  meet 
him,  exclaimed,  — 

"  0  Gurth,  Heaven  hath  sent  thee  to  me,  I  know  well, 
thougli  I  cannot  explain  to  thee  why,  for  I  cannot  explain 
it  to  myself ;  but  know  I  do,  by  the  mysterious  bode- 
nients  of  my  own  soul,  that  some  great  danger  is  at  this 
moment  encircling  thy  brother  Harold.  Go  to  him,  I 
pray,  I  implore  thee,  forthwith  ;  and  let  thy  clear  sense 
and  warm  heart  be  by  his  side." 

"I  will  go  instantly,"  said  Gurth,  startled.  "But  do 
not  suffer,  I  adjure  thee,  sweet  kinswoman,  the  supersti- 
tion that  wraps  this  place,  as  a  mist  wraps  a  marsh,  to 
infect  thy  pure  spirit.  In  my  early  youth  I  submitted  to 
the  influence  of  Hilda  ;  I  became  man,  and  outgrew  it. 
Much  secretly  has  it  grieved  me  of  late  to  see  that  our 
kinswoman's  Danish  lore  has  brought  even  the  strong 
heart  of  Harold  under  its  spell ;  and  where  once  he  only 
spoke  of  duty,  I  now  hear  him  speak  ol  fate." 

"  Alas  !  alas  !  "  answered  Edith,  wringing  her  hands  : 
"  when  the  bird  hides  its  head  in  the  brake,  doth  it  shut 
out  the  track  of  the  hound  ?  Can  we  baffle  fate  by  refus- 
ing to  heed  its  approaches  ?  But  we  waste  precious 
moments.  Go,  Gurth,  dear  Gurth  !  Heavier  and  darker, 
while  we  speak,  gathers  the  cloud  on  my  heart !  " 

Gurth  said  no  more,  but  hastened  to  remount  his  steed  ; 
and  Edith  remained  alone  by  the  Roman  fountain,  motion- 
less and  sad,  as  if  the  Nymph  of  the  old  Religion  stood 
there  to  see  the  lessening  stream  well  away  from  the  shat- 
tered stone,  and  know  that  the  life  of  the  Nymph  was 
measured  by  the  ebb  of  the  stream. 

Gurth  arrived  in  London  just  as  Harold  was  taking 
boat  for  the  palace  of  Westminster,  to  seek  the  king  ;  and 
after  interchanging  a  hurried  embrace  with  his  mother,  he 


14  HAROLD. 

accompanied  Harold  to  the  palace,  and  learned  his  errand 
by  the  way.  While  Harold  spoke,  he  did  not  foresee 
any  danger  to  be  incurred  by  a  friendly  visit  to  the  Nor- 
man court ;  and  the  interval  that  elapsed  between  Harold's 
communication  and  their  entrance  into  the  king's  chamber, 
allowed  no  time  for  mature  and  careful  reflection. 

Edward,  on  whom  years  and  infirmity  had  increased  of 
late  with  rapid  ravage,  heard  Harold's  request  with  a 
grave  and  deep  attention,  which  he  seldom  vouclisafed  to 
earthly  affairs.  And  he  remained  long  silent  after  his 
brother-in-law  had  finished  ;  so  long  silent,  that  the  earl, 
at  first,  deemed  that  he  was  absorbed  in  one  of  those 
mystic  and  abstracted  reveries,  in  wliich,  more  and  more 
as  he  grew  nearer  to  the  borders  of  the  World  Unseen, 
Edward  so  strangely  indulged.  But,  looking  more  close, 
both  he  and  Gurth  were  struck  by  the  evident  dismay  on 
the  king's  face,  while  the  collected  light  of  Edward's  cold 
eye  showed  that  his  mind  was  awake  to  the  human 
world.  In  truth,  it  is  probable  tliat  Edward,  at  tluit 
moment,  was  recalling  rash  hints,  if  not  promises,  to  his 
rapacious  cousin  of  Normandy,  made  during  his  exile. 
And  sensible  of  his  own  declining  health,  and  the  tender 
years  of  the  young  Edgar,  he  might  be  musing  over  the 
terrible  pretender  to  the  English  throne,  whose  claims  his 
earlier  indiscretion  might  seem  to  sanction.  Whatever 
his  thoughts,  they  were  dark  and  sinister,  as  at  length  he 
said,  slowly,  — 

"  Is  thine  oath  indeed  given  to  thy  mother,  and  doth  she 
keep  thee  to  it?" 

"  Both,  O  king,"  answered  Harold,  briefly. 

"  Then  I  can  gainsay  thee  not.  And  thou,  Harold,  art 
a  man  of  this  living  world  ;  thou  playest  here  the  part  of 
a  centurion  ;  thou  sayest,  '  Come,'  and  men  come,  —  '  Go,' 
and  men  move  at  thy  will.     Therefore  thou  mayest  well 


HAROLD.  15 

judge  for  thyself.  I  gainsay  thee  not,  nor  interfere 
between  man  and  his  vow.  But  think  not,"  continued 
the  king  in  a  more  solemn  voice,  and  with  increasing 
emotion,  —  "  think  not  that  I  will  charge  my  soul  that  I 
counselled  or  encouraged  this  errand.  Yea,  I  foresee  that 
thy  journey  will  lead  but  to  great  evil  to  England,  and 
sore  grief  or  dire  loss  to  thee."  ^ 

"  How  so,  dear  lord  and  king  1 "  said  Harold,  startled 
by  Edward's  unwonted  earnestness,  though  deeming  it 
but  one  of  the  visionary  chimeras  habitual  to  the  saint. 
"  How  so  ?  William  thy  cousin  hath  ever  borne  the 
name  of  one  fair  to  friend,  though  fierce  to  foe.  And 
foul  indeed  his  dishonor,  if  he  could  meditate  harm 
to  a  man  trusting  his  faith,  and  sheltered  by  his  own 
roof-tree." 

"  Harold,  Harold,"  said  Edward,  impatiently,  "  I  know 
William  of  old.  Nor  is  he  so  simple  of  mind  that  he  will 
cede  aught  for  thy  pleasure,  or  even  to  my  will,  unless  it 
bring  some  gain  to  himself.^  I  say  no  more.  Thou  art 
cautioned,  and  I  leave  the  rest  to  Heaven." 

It  is  the  misfortune  of  men  little  famous  for  worldly 
lore,  that  in  those  few  occasions  when,  in  that  sagacity 
caused  by  their  very  freedom  from  the  strife  and  passion 
of  those  around,  they  seem  almost  prophetically  inspired, 
—  it  is  their  misfortune  to  lack  the  power  of  conveying 
to  others  their  own  convictions  ;  they  may  divine,  but 
they  cannot  reason  ;  and  Harold  could  detect  nothing  to 
deter  his  purpose,  in  a  vague  fear,  based  on  no  other  argu- 
ment than  as  vague  a  perception  of  the  duke's  general 
character.  But  Gurth,  listening  less  to  his  reason  than 
his  devoted  love  for  his  brother,  took  alarm,  and  said,  after 
a  pause,  — 

^  "BromtonChron.,"  Knyghton,  Walsinghara,  Hoveden,  &c. 
2  Broraton,  Knyghtou,  &c. 


16  HAROLD. 

"  Thinkest  thou,  good  my  king,  that  the  same  danger 
were  incurred  if  Gurth  instead  of  Harold  crossed  the  seas 
to  demand  the  hostages  1  " 

"No,"  said  Edward,  eagerly,  "and  so  would  I  counsel. 
William  would  not  have  the  same  ohjects  to  gain  in  prac- 
tising his  worldly  guile  upou  thee  JSTo ;  methinks  that 
were  the  prudent  course." 

"  And  the  ignoble  one  for  Harold,"  said  the  elder 
brother,  almost  indignantly.  "  Howbeit,  I  thank  thee 
gratefully,  dear  king,  for  thy  affectionate  heed  and  care  ; 
and  so  the  saints  guard  thee  ! " 

On  leaving  the  king,  a  warm  discussion  between  the 
brothers  took  place  ;  but  Gurth's  arguments  were  stronger 
than  those  of  Harold,  and  the  earl  was  driven  to  rest  his 
persistence  on  his  own  special  pledge  to  Githa.  As  soon, 
however,  as  they  had  gained  their  home,  that  plea  was 
taken  from  him ;  for  the  moment  Gurth  related  to  his 
mother  Edward's  fears  and  cautions,  slie,  ever  mindful  of 
Godwin's  preference  for  the  earl,  and  his  last  commands 
to  her,  hastened  to  release  Harold  from  his  pledge ;  and 
to  implore  him  at  least  to  sufi'er  Giu'th  to  be  his  substi- 
tute to  the  Norman  court.  "  Listen  dispassionately," 
said  Gurth  ;  "  rely  upon  it  that  Edward  has  reasons  for 
his  fears,  more  rational  than  those  he  has  given  to  us. 
He  knows  William  from  his  youth  upward,  and  hatli 
loved  him  too  well  to  hint  doubts  of  his  good  faith  with- 
out just  foundation.  Are  there  no  reasons  why  danger 
from  William  should  be  special  against  thyself  ?  While 
the  Normans  abounded  in  the  court,  there  were  rumors 
that  the  duke  had  some  designs  on  England,  which 
Edward's  preference  seemed  to  sanction  :  such  designs 
now,  in  the  altered  state  of  England,  were  absurd,  —  too 
frantic  for  a  prince  of  William's  reputed  wusdom  to  enter- 
tain ;   yet   he  may  not   unnaturally  seek    to  regain    the 


HAROLD.  17 

former  Norman  influence  in  tliese  realms.  He  knows 
that  in  you  he  receives  the  most  powerful  man  in  Eng- 
land ;  that  your  detention  alone  would  convulse  the 
country  from  one  end  of  it  to  the  other,  and  enable  hira, 
perhaps,  to  extort  from  Edward  some  measures  dishonor- 
able to  us  all ;  but  against  me  he  can  harbor  no  ill  design, 
—  my  detention  would  avail  him  nothing.  And,  in  truth, 
if  Harold  be  safe  in  England,  Gurth  must  be  safe  in 
Eouen.  Thy  preseuce  here  at  the  head  of  our  armies 
guarantees  me  from  wrong.  But  reverse  the  case,  and 
with  Gurth  in  England,  is  Harold  safe  in  Rouen '?  I, 
but  a  simple  soldier  and  homely  lord,  with  slight  influence 
over  Edward,  no  command  in  the  country,  and  little  prac- 
tised of  speech  in  the  stormy  Witan,  —  I  am  just  so  great 
that  William  dare  not  harm  me,  but  not  so  great  that  he 
should  even  wish  to  harm  me." 

"  He  detains  our  kinsmen,  why  not  thee?"  said  Harold. 

"  Because  with  our  kinsmen  he  has  at  least  the  pretext 
that  they  were  pledged  as  hostages  ;  because  I  go  simply  as 
guest  and  envoy.  No,  to  me  ilauger  cannot  come  :  be 
ruled,  dear  Harold." 

"Be  ruled,  0  my  son,"  cried  Githa,  clasping  the  earl's 
knees,  "  and  do  not  let  me  dread,  in  the  depth  of  the 
night,  to  see  the  shade  of  Godwin,  and  hear  his  voice 
say,  '  Woman,  where  is  Harold  ? '  " 

It  was  impossible  for  the  earl's  strong  understanding 
to  resist  the  arguments  addressed  to  it ;  and,  to  say  truth, 
he  had  been  more  disturbed  than  he  liked  to  confess  by 
Edward's  sinister  forewarnings ;  }■  et,  on  the  other  hand, 
there  were  reasons  against  his  acquiescence  in  Gurth's 
proposal.  The  primary,  and,  to  do  him  justice,  the 
strongest,  was  in  his  native  courage  and  his  generous 
pride.  Should  he,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  shrink 
from  a  peril  in  the  discharge  of  his  duty,  —  a  peril,  too, 

VOL.  II. 2 


18  HAROLD. 

so  uncertain  and  vague  ?  Should  he  suffer  Gurth  to  ful- 
fil the  pledge  he  himself  had  taken?  And  granting  even 
that  Gurth  were  safe  from  whatever  danger  he  individu- 
ally might  incur,  did  it  become  him  to  accept  the  proxy  1 
Would  Gurth's  voice,  too,  be  as  potent  as  his  own  in 
effecting  the  return  of  the  hostages  ? 

The  next  reasons  that  swayed  him  were  those  he  could 
not  avow.  In  clearing  his  way  to  the  English  throne,  it 
would  be  of  no  mean  importance  to  secure  the  friendship 
of  the  Norman  duke,  and  the  Norman  acquiescence  in  his 
pretensions  ;  it  would  be  of  infinite  service  to  remove 
those  prepossessions  against  his  House  which  were  still 
rife  with  the  Normans,  who  retained  a  bitter  remem- 
brance of  their  countrymen  decimated,^  it  was  said,  with 
the  concurrence,  if  not  at  the  order,  of  Godwin,  when 
they  accompanied  the  ill-fated  Alfred  to  the  English 
shore,  and  who  were  yet  sore  with  tlieir  old  expulsion 
from  the  English  court  at  the  return  of  his  father  and 
himself. 

Though  it  could  not  enter  into  his  head  that  William, 
possessing  no  party  whatever  in  England,  could  himself 
aspire  to  the  English  crown,  yet,  at  Edward's  death  there 
might  be  pretenders  whom  the  Norman  arms  could  find 
ready  excuse  to  sanction.  There  was  the  boy  Atheling 
on  the  one  side  ;  there  was  the  valiant  Norwegian  King 
Hardrada  on  the  other,  who  might  revive  the  claims  of 
his  predecessor  Magnus  as  heir  to  the  rights  of  Canute. 
So  near  and  so  formidable  a  neighbor  as  the  count  of  tlie 
Normans,  every  object  of  policy  led  him  to  propitiate  ; 
and  Gurth,  with  his  unbending  hate  of  all  that  was  Nor- 

^  The  word  "  decimated "  is  tlie  one  generally  applied  by  the 
historians  to  the  massacre  in  question,  and  it  is  tlierefore  retained 
here;  but  it  is  not  correctly  applied  ;  for  that  Initchery  was  perpe- 
tratedj  not  uj^ou  one  out  of  ten,  but  nine  out  of  ten. 


HAROLD.  19 

man,  was  not,  at  least,  the  most  politic  envoy  he  could 
select  for  that  end.  Add  to  this,  that,  despite  their  pres- 
ent reconciliation,  Harold  could  never  long  count  upon 
amity  with  Tostig  ;  and  Tostig's  connection  with  William, 
through  their  marriages  into  the  House  of  Baldwin,  was 
full  of  danger  to  a  new  throne,  to  which  Tostig  would 
probably  be  the  most  turbulent  subject ;  the  influence  of 
this  connection  how  desirable  to  counteract !  ^ 

Nor  could  Harold,  who,  as  patriot  and  statesman,  felt 
deeply  the  necessity  of  reform  and  regeneration  in  the 
decayed  edifice  of  the  English  monarchy,  willingly  lose 
an  occasion  to  witness  all  that  William  had  done  to  raise  so 
high  in  renown  and  civilization,  in  martial  fame  and  com- 
mercial prosperity,  that  petty  duchy  wlu(>h  he  had  placed 
on  a  level  with  the  kingdoms  of  the  Teuton  and  the 
Frank.  Lastly,  the  Normans  were  the  special  darlings  of 
the  Roman  Church.  William  had  obtained  the  dispensa- 
tion to  his  own  marriage  with  Matilda  ;  and  might  not 
the  Norman  influence,  duly  conciliated,  back  the  prayer 
which  Harold  trusted  one  day  to  address  to  the  pontiff", 
and  secure  to  him  the  hallowed  blessing,  without  which 
ambition  lost  its  charm  and  even  a  throne  its  splendor  1 

All  these  considerations,  therefore,  urged  the  earl  to 
persist  in  his  original  purpose  ;  but  a  warning  voice  in  his 
heart,  more  powerful  than  all,  sided  with  the  prayer  of 
Githa  and  the  arguments  of  Gurth.  In  this  state  of  irreso- 
lution, Gurth  said,  seasonably, — 

"  Bethink  thee,  Harold,  if  menaced  but  with  peril  to 
thyself,  thou  wouldst  have  a  brave  man's  right  to  resist 
us ;  but  it  was  of  '  great  evil  to  England  '  that  Edward 

1  The  above  reasons  for  Harold's  memorable  expedition  are 
sketched  at  this  length,  because  they  suggest  the  most  probable 
motives  which  induced  it,  and  furnish,  in  no  rash  and  inconsider- 
ate policy,  that  key  to  his  visit  wliich  is  not  to  be  found  in  chron- 
icler or  historian. 


20  HAROLD. 

spoke,  and  thy  reflection  must  tell  thee  that,  in  this  crisis 
of  our  country,  danger  to  thee  is  evil  to  England,  —  evil 
to  England  thou  hast  no  right  to  incur." 

"  Dear  mother,  and  generous  Gurth,"  said  Harold,  then 
joining  the  two  in  one  embrace,  "  ye  have  wellnigh  con- 
quered. Give  me  but  two  days  to  ponder  well,  and  be 
assured  that  I  will  not  decide  from  the  rash  promptings 
of  an  ill-considered  judgment." 

Farther  than  this  they  could  not  then  move  the  earl  ; 
but  Gurth  was  pleased  shortly  afterwards  to  see  him 
depart  to  Edith,  whose  fears,  from  whatever  source  they 
sprang,  would,  he  was  certain,  come  in  aid  of  his  own 
pleadings. 

But  as  the  earl  rode  alone  towards  the  once  stately 
home  of  the  perished  Roman,  and  entered  at  twilight  the 
darkening  forest-land,  his  thoughts  were  less  on  Edith 
than  on  the  Vala,  with  whom  his  ambition  had  more  and 
more  connected  his  soul.  Perplexed  by  his  doubts,  and 
left  dim  in  the  waning  lights  of  human  reason,  never 
more  involuntarily  did  he  fly  to  some  guide  to  interpret 
the  future  and  decide  his  path. 

As  if  fate  itself  responded  to  the  cry  of  his  heart,  he 
suddenly  came  in  sight  of  Hilda  herself,  gathering  leaves 
from  elm  and  ash  amidst  the  woodland. 

He  sprang  from  his  horse  and  approached  her. 

"  Hilda,"  said  he,  in  a  low  but  firm  voice,  "  thou  hast 
often  told  me  that  the  dead  can  advise  the  living.  Raise 
thou  the  Sein-lseca  of  the  hero  of  old,  —  raise  the  Ghost, 
which  mine  eye  or  my  fancy  beheld  before,  vast  and  dim 
by  the  silent  bautastein,  and  I  will  stand  by  thy  side. 
Fain  would  I  know  if  thou  hadst  deceived  me  and  thy- 
self ;  or  if,  in  truth,  to  man's  guidance  Heaven  doth 
vouchsafe  saga  and  rede  from  those  who  have  passed  into 
the  secret  shores  of  eternity." 


HAROLD.  21 

"  The  dead,"  answered  Hilda,  "  will  not  reveal  them- 
selves to  eyeS'  uninitiate,  save  at  their  own  will  uncom- 
pelled  by  charm  and  rune.  To  me  their  forms  can  appear 
distinct  through  the  airy  flame  ;  to  me,  duly  prepared  by 
spells  that  purge  the  eye  of  the  spirit,  and  loosen  the 
walls  of  the  flesh.  I  cannot  say  that  what  I  see  in  the 
trance  and  the  travail  of  my  soul  thou  also  wilt  behold ; 
for  even  when  the  vision  hath  passed  from  my  sight,  and 
the  voice  from  my  ear,  only  memories,  confused  and  dim, 
of  what  I  saw  and  heard,  remain  to  guide  the  waking  and 
common  life.  But  thou  shalt  stand  by  my  side  while  I  in- 
voke the  phantom,  and  hear  and  interpret  the  words  which 
rush  from  my  lips,  and  the  runes  that  take  meaning  from 
the  sparks  of  the  charmed  fire.  1  knew  ere  thou  earnest, 
by  the  darkness  and  trouble  of  Edith's  soul,  that  some 
shade  from  the  ash-tree  of  life  had  fallen  upon  thine." 

Then  Harold  related  what  had  passed,  and  placed 
before  Hilda  the  doubts  that  beset  him. 

The  prophetess  listened  with  earnest  attention  ;  but  her 
mind,  when  not  under  its  more  mystic  influences,  being 
strongly  biased  by  its  natural  courage  and  ambition,  she 
saw  at  a  glance  all  the  advantages  towards  securing  the 
throne  predestined  to  Harold,  which  might  be  effected  by 
his  visit  to  the  N'orman  court ;  and  she  held  in  too  great 
disdain  both  the  worldly  sense  and  the  mystic  reveries  of 
the  monkish  king  (for  the  believer  in  Odin  was  naturally 
incredulous  of  the  visitation  of  the  Christian  saints)  to 
attach  much  weight  to  his  dreary  predictions. 

The  short  reply  she  made  was  therefore  not  calculated 
to  deter  Harold  from  the  ex]')edition  in  dispute  ;  but  she 
deferred  till  the  following  night,  and  to  wisdom  more 
dread  than  her  own,  the  counsels  that  should  sway  his 
decision. 

With  a  strange  satisfaction  at   the   thought    that   he 


22  HAROLD. 

sliould,  at  least,  test  personally  the  reality  of  those 
assumptions  of  preternatural  power  which  had  of  late 
colored  his  resolves  and  oppressed  his  heart,  Harold  then 
took  leave  of  the  Vala,  who  returned  mechanically  to  her 
employment ;  and,  leading  his  horse  by  the  rein,  slowly 
continued  his  musing  way  towards  the  green  knoll  and 
its  heathen  ruins.  But  ere  he  gained  the  hillock,  and 
while  his  thoughtful  eyes  were  bent  on  the  ground,  he 
felt  his  arm  seized  tenderly,  —  turned,  and  beheld  Edith's 
face  full  of  unutterable  and  anxious  love. 

With  that  love,  indeed,  there  was  blended  so  much 
wistfulness,  so  much  fear,  that  Harold  exclaimed,  — 

"Soul  of  my  soul,  what  hatli  chanced?  what  affects 
thee  thus?" 

"Hath  no  danger  befallen  thee?"  asked  Edith,  falter- 
ingly,  and  gazing  on  his  face  with  wistful,  searching  eyes. 

"  Danger  !  none,  sweet  trembler,"  answered  the  earl, 
evasively. 

Edith  dropped  her  eager  looks,  and,  clinging  to  his 
arm,  drew  him  on  silently  into  the  forest  land.  She 
paused  at  last,  where  the  old  fantastic  trees  shut  out  the 
view  of  the  ancient  ruins ;  and  when,  looking  round,  she 
saw  not  those  gray,  gigantic  shafts  which  mortal  hand 
seemed  never  to  have  piled  together,  she  breathed  more 
freely. 

"  Speak  to  me,"  then  said  Harold,  bending  his  face  to 
hers  ;  "  why  this  silence  1 " 

"  Ah,  Harold  !  "  answered  his  betrothed,  "thou  knowest 
that  ever  since  we  have  loved  one  another,  my  existence 
hath  been  but  a  shadow  of  thine  ;  by  some  weird  and 
strange  mystery,  which  Hilda  would  explain  by  the  stars 
or  the  fates,  that  have  made  me  apart  of  thee,  I  know  by 
the  lightness  or  gloom  of  niy  own  spirit  when  good  or  ill 
shall  bsfall  thee.     How  often  in  thine  absence  hath  a  joy 


HAROLD.  23 

suddenly  broke  upon  me  ;  and  I  felt  by  that  joy,  as  by 
the  smile  of  a  good  angel,  that  thou  hadst  passed  safe 
through  some  peril,  or  triumphed  over  some  foe  !  And 
now  thou  askest  me  why  I  am  so  sad,  —  I  can  only 
answer  thee  by  saying,  that  the  sadness  is  cast  upon  me 
by  some  thunder-gloom  on  thine  own  destiny." 

Harold  had  sought  Edith  to  speak  of  his  meditated 
journey,  but  seeing  her  dejection  he  did  not  dare ;  so  he 
drew  her  to  his  brtBast,  and  chid  her  soothingly  for  her 
vain  apprehensions.  But  Edith  would  not  be  comforted ; 
there  seemed  something  weighing  on  her  mind  and  strug- 
gUng  to  her  lips  not  accounted  for  merely  by  sympathetic 
forebodings ;  and  at  length,  as  he  pressed  her  to  tell  all, 
she  gathered  courage  and  spoke. 

"Do  not  mock  me,"  she  said;  "but  what  secret, 
whether  of  vain  folly  or  of  meaning  fate,  should  I  hold 
from  thee  ?  All  this  day  I  struggled  in  vain  against  the 
heaviness  of  my  forebodings.  How  I  hailed  tlie  sight  of 
Gurtli  thy  brother  !  I  besought  him  to  seek  thee,  —  thou 
hast  seen  him." 

"  I  have  !  "  said  Harold.  "  But  thou  wert  about  to  tell 
me  of  something  more  than  this  dejection." 

"  Well,"  resumed  Edith,  "  after  Gurth  left  me,  my  feet 
sought  involuntarily  the  hill  on  which  we  have  met  so 
often.  I  sat  down  near  the  old  tomb ;  a  strange  weari- 
ness crept  on  my  eyes,  and  a  sleep  that  seemed  not  wholly 
sleep  fell  over  me.  I  struggled  against  it,  as  if  conscious 
of  some  coming  terror ;  and  as  I  struggled,  and  ere  I 
slept,  Harold,  —  yes,  ere  I  slept,  —  I  saw  distinctly  a  pale 
and  glimmering  figure  rise  from  the  Saxon's  grave.  I 
saw,  —  I  see  it  still !  Oh,  that  livid  front,  those  glassy 
eyes !  " 

"  The  figure  of  a  warrior?"  said  Harold,  startled. 

"  Of  a  warrior,  armed  as  in  the  ancient  days,  —  armed 


24  HAROLD. 

like  the  warrior  that  Hilda's  maids  are  working  for  thy 
banner.  I  saw  it ;  and  in  one  hand  it  held  a  spear,  and 
in  the  other  a  crown." 

"  A  crown  !  —  Say  on,  say  on." 

"  I  saw  no  more ;  sleep,  in  spite  of  myself,  fell  on  me, 
a  sleep  full  of  confused  and  painful,  rapid  and  shape- 
less images,  till  at  last  this  dream  rose  clear.  I  beheld  a 
bright  and  starry  shape  that  seemed  as  a  spirit,  yet  Avore 
thine  aspect,  standing  on  a  rock  ;  and  an  angry  torrent 
rolled  between  the  rock  and  the  dry  safe  land.  The 
waves  began  to  invade  the  rock,  and  the  spirit  unfurled 
its  wings  as  to  flee.  And  then  foul  things  climbed  up 
from  the  slime  of  the  rock,  and  descended  from  the  mists 
of  the  troubled  skies,  and  they  coiled  round  the  wings 
and  clogged  them. 

"  Then  a  voice  cried  in  my  ear,  '  Seest  thou  not  on  the 
perilous  rock  the  Soul  of  Harold  the  Brave  1  —  seest  thou 
not  that  the  waters  engulf  it,  if  the  wings  fail  to  fleel 
Up,  Truth,  whose  strength  is  in  purity,  whose  image  is 
woman,  and  aid  the  soul  of  the  brave  ! '  I  sought  to 
spring  to  thy  side ;  but  I  was  powerless,  and  behold,  close 
beside  me,  through  my  sleep  as  through  a  veil,  appeared 
the  shafts  of  the  ruined  temple  in  which  I  lay  reclined. 
And  methought  I  saw  Hilda  sitting  alone  by  the  Saxon's 
grave,  and  pouring  from  a  crystal  vessel  black  drops  into 
a  human  heart  which  she  held  in  her  hands  ;  and  out 
of  that  heart  grew  a  child,  and  out  of  that  child  a  youth, 
Avith  dark,  mournful  brow.  And  the  youth  stood  by  thy 
side  and  whispered  to  thee ;  and  from  his  lips  there  came 
a  reeking  smoke,  and  in  that  smoke,  as  in  a  blight,  the 
wings  withered  up.  And  I  hesird  the  Voice  say,  '  Hilda, 
it  is  thou  that  hast  destroyed  the  good  angel,  and  reared 
from  the  poisoned  heart  the  loathsome  tempter  !'  And 
I  cried  aloud,  but  it  was  too  late  ;  the  waves  swept  over 


HAROLD.  25 

thee,  and  above  the  waves  there  floated  an  iron  helmet, 
and  on  the  hehnet  was  a  golden  crown,  —  the  crown  I 
had  seen  in  the  hand  of  the  spectre  !  " 

"  But  this  is  no  evil  dream,  my  Edith,"  said  Harold, 

gayly. 

Edith,  unheeding  him,  continued,  — 

"  I  started  from  my  sleep.  The  sun  was  still  high,  — 
the  air  lulled  and  windless.  Then  through  the  shafts 
and  down  the  hill  there  glided  in  that  clear  waking  day- 
light a  grisly  shape,  like  that  which  I  have  heard  our 
maidens  say  the  witch-hags,  sometimes  seen  in  the  forest, 
assume ;  yet  in  truth  it  seemed  neither  of  man  nor 
woman.  It  turned  its  face  once  towards  me,  and  on  that 
hideous  face  were  the  glee  and  hate  of  a  triumphant  fiend. 
Oh,  Harold,  what  should  all  this  portend  1 " 

"  Hast  thou  not  asked  thy  kinswoman,  the  diviner  of 
dreams  1 " 

"  I  asked  Hilda,  and  she,  like  thee,  only  murmured 
'  The  Saxon  crown ! '  But  if  there  be  faith  in  those 
airy  children  of  the  night,  surely,  0  adored  one,  the 
vision  forebodes  danger,  not  to  life,  but  to  soul ;  and  the 
words  I  heard  seemed  to  say  that  thy  wings  were  thy 
valor,  and  the  Fylgia  thou  hadst  lost  was  —  no,  that  were 
impossible  —  " 

"  That  my  Fylgia  was  Truth,  which  losing,  I  were 
indeed  lost  to  thee.  Thou  dost  well,"  said  Harold,  loftily, 
"  to  hold  that  among  the  lies  of  the  fancy.  All  else  may 
perchance  desert  me,  but  never  mine  own  free  soul.  Self- 
reliant  hath  Hilda  called  me  in  mine  earlier  days,  and  — 
wherever  fate  casts  me  —  in  my  truth,  and  my  love,  and 
my  dauntless  heart,  I  dare  both  man  and  the  fiend." 

Edith  gazed  a  moment  in  devout  admiration  on  the 
mien  of  her  hero-lover,  then  she  drew  close  and  closer  to 
his  breast,  consoled  and  believing. 


26  HAKOLD. 


CHAPTER  V. 

With  all  her  persuasion  of  her  own  powers  in  penetrat- 
ing the  future,  we  have  seen  that  Hilda  had  never  con- 
sulted her  oracles  on  the  fate  of  Harold  without  a  dark 
and  awful  sense  of  the  ambiguity  of  their  responses. 
That  fate,  involving  the  mightiest  interests  of  a  great 
race,  and  connected  with  events  operating  on  the  farthest 
times  and  the  remotest  lands,  lost  itself  to  her  prophetic 
ken  amidst  omens  the  most  contradictory,  shadows  and 
lights  the  most  conflicting,  meshes  the  most  entangled. 
Her  human  heart,  devoutly  attached  to  the  earl  through 
her  love  for  Edith,  —  her  pride  obstinately  bent  on  secur- 
ing to  the  last  daughter  of  her  princely  race  that  throne, 
which  all  her  vaticinations,  even  when  most  gloomy, 
assured  her  was  destined  to  the  man  with  whom  Edith's 
doom  was  interwoven,  combined  to  induce  her  to  the 
most  favorable  interpretation  of  all  that  seemed  sinister 
and  doubtful.  But  according  to  the  tenets  of  that  pecul- 
iar form  of  magic  cultivated  by  Hilda,  the  comprehension 
became  obscured  by  whatever  partook  of  human  sympa- 
thy. It  was  a  magic  wholly  distinct  from  the  malignant 
witchcraft  more  popularly  known  to  us,  and  which  was 
equally  common  to  the  Germanic  and  Scandinavian 
heathens. 

The  magic  of  Hilda  was  rather  akin  to  the  old  Cim- 
brian  Alirones,  or  sacred  prophetesses  ;  and,  as  with  them, 
it  demanded  the  priestess,  —  that  is,  the  person  without 
human   ties  or   emotions,  a  spirit   clear   as  a  mirror,  — • 


HAKOLD.  27 

upon  which  the  great  images  of  destiny  might  be  cast 
untroubled. 

However  the  natural  gifts  and  native  character  of 
Hilda  might  be  perverted  by  the  visionary  and  delusive 
studies  habitual  to  her,  there  was  in  her  very  infirmities 
a  grandeur,  not  without  its  pathos.  In  this  position, 
which  she  had  assumed  between  the  earth  and  the 
heaven,  she  stood  so  solitary  and  in  such  chilling  air,  — 
all  the  doubts  that  beset  her  lonely  and  daring  soul  came 
in  such  gigantic  forms  of  terror  and  menace  !  On  the 
verge  of  the  mighty  Heathenesse  sinking  fast  into  the 
night  of  ages,  she  towered  amidst  the  shades,  a  shade  her- 
self ;  and  round  her  gathered  the  last  demons  of  the 
Dire  Belief,  defying  the  march  of  their  luminous  foe,  and 
concentring  round  their  mortal  priestess  the  wrecks  of 
their  horrent  empire  over  a  world  redeemed. 

All  the  night  that  succeeded  her  last  brief  conference 
with  Harold,  the  Vala  wandered  through  the  wild  forest- 
land,  seeking  haunts,  or  employed  in  collecting  herbs, 
hallowed  to  her  dubious  yet  solemn  lore ;  and  the  last 
stars  were  receding  into  the  cold  gray  skies,  when,  return- 
ing homeward,  she  beheld  within  the  circle  of  the  Druid 
temple  a  motionless  object,  stretched  on  the  ground  near 
the  Teuton's  grave  ;  she  approached,  and  perceived  what 
seemed  a  corpse,  it  was  so  still  and  stiflf  in  its  repose,  and 
the  face  upturned  to  the  stars  was  so  haggard  and  death- 
like, —  a  face  horrible  to  behold  :  the  evidence  of  extreme 
age  was  written  on  the  shrivelled,  livid  skin  and  the 
deep  furrows,  but  the  expression  retained  that  intense 
malignity  which  belongs  to  a  power  of  life  that  extreme 
age  rarely  knows.  The  garb,  which  was  that  of  a  remote 
fashion,  was  foul  and  ragged,  and  neither  by  the  garb, 
nor  by  the  face,  was  it  easy  to  guess  what  was  the  sex  of 
this  seeming  corpse.     But  by  a  strange  and  peculiar  odor 


28  HAROLD. 

that  rose  from  the  form,  and  a  certain  glistening  on 
the  face,  and  the  lean,  folded  hands,  Hilda  knew  that  the 
creature  was  one  of  those  witches,  esteemed  of  all  the 
most  deadly  and  abhorred,  who,  by  the  application  of 
certain  ointments,  were  supposed  to  possess  the  art  of 
separating  soul  from  body,  and,  leaving  the  last  as  dead, 
to  dismiss  the  first  to  the  dismal  orgies  of  the  Sabbat.  It 
was  a  frequent  custom  to  select  for  the  place  of  such 
trances,  heathen  temples  and  ancient  graves.  And  Hilda 
seated  herself  beside  the  witch  to  await  the  waking. 
The  cock  crowed  thrice,  heavy  mists  began  to  arise  from 
the  glades,  covering  the  gnarled  roots  of  the  forest  trees, 
when  the  dread  face,  on  which  Hilda  calmly  gazed,  showed 
symptoms  of  returning  life  !  A  strong  convulsion  shook 
the  vague  indefinite  form  under  its  huddled  garments  ; 
the  eyes  opened,  closed,  —  opened  again  ;  and  Avhat  had 
a  few  moments  before  seemed  a  dead  thing,  sat  up  and 
looked  round. 

"  Wicca,"  said  the  Danish  prophetess,  with  an  accent 
between  contempt  and  curiosity,  "  for  what  mischief  to 
beast  or  man  hast  thou  followed  the  noiseless  path  of  the 
Dreams  through  the  airs  of  Night  ?  " 

The  creature  gazed  hard  upon  the  questioner  from  its 
bleared  but  fiery  eyes,  and  replied  slowly,  "  Hail,  Hilda, 
the  Morthwyrtha  !  why  art  thou  not  of  us, —  why  comest 
thou  not  to  our  revels  ?  Gay  sport  have  we  had  to-night 
with  Faul  and  Zabulus  ;  i  but  gayer  far  shall  our  sport 
be  in  the  wassail  hall  of  Senlac,  when  thy  grandchild 
shall  come  in  the  torchlight  to  the  bridal  bed  of  her  lord. 
A  buxom  bride  is  Edith  the  Fair,  and  fair  looked  her 
face  in  her  sleep  on  yesternoon,  when  I  sat  by  her  side, 
and  breathed  on  her  brow,  and  murmured  the  verse  that 

^  Faul  was  an  evil  spirit  much  dreaded  by  the  Saxons.  Zabulua 
and  Diabolus  (the  Devil)  seem  to  have  been  the  same. 


HAROLD.  29 

blackens  the  dream ;  but  fairer  still  shall  she  look  in  her 
sleep  by  her  lord.  Ha  !  ha  !  Ho  !  we  shall  be  there, 
with  Zabulus  and  Faul ;  we  shall  be  there  !  " 

"  How !  "  said  Hilda,  thrilled  to  learn  that  the  secret 
ambition  she  cherished  was  known  to  this  loathed  sister 
in  the  art.  "  How  dost  thou  pretend  to  that  mystery  of 
the  future,  which  is  dim  and  clouded  even  to  me  ?  Canst 
thou  tell  when  and  where  the  daughter  of  the  Norse  kings 
shall  sleep  on  the  breast  of  her  lord  1 " 

A  sound  that  partook  of  laughter,  but  was  so  unearthly 
in  its  malignant  glee  that  it  seemed  not  to  come  from  a 
liuman  lip,  answered  the  Yala  ;  and  as  tlie  laugh  died,  the 
Avitch  rose,  and  said, — 

"Go  and  question  thy  dead,  0  Morthwyrtha !  Thou 
deemest  thyself  wiser  than  we  are  ;  we  wretched  hags, 
whom  the  ceorl  seeks  when  his  herd  has  the  murrain,  or 
the  girl  when  her  false  love  forsakes  her  ;  we,  who  have 
no  dwelling  known  to  man,  but  are  found  at  need  in  the 
wold  or  the  cave,  or  the  side  of  dull,  slimy  streams  where 
the  murderess-mother  hath  drowned  her  babe.  Askest 
thou,  0  Hilda,  the  rich  and  the  learned,  askest  thou  counsel 
and  lore  from  the  daughter  of  Faul  1 " 

"No,"  answered  the  Yala,  haughtily,  "not  to  such  as 
thou  do  the  great  Nomas  unfold  the  future.  "What 
knowest  thou  of  the  runes  of  old,  whispered  by  the 
trunkless  skull  to  the  mighty  Odin  1  runes  that  control 
the  elements,  and  conjure  up  the  Shining  Shadows  of  the 
grave.  Not  with  thee  will  the  stars  confer  ;  and  thy 
dreams  are  foul  with  revelries  obscene,  not  solenni  and 
haunted  with  the  bodements  of  tilings  to  come  !  Only 
I  marvelled,  while  I  beheld  thee  on  the  Saxon's  grave, 
what  joy  such  as  thou  can  find  in  that  life  above  life, 
which  draws  upward  the  soul  of  the  true  Yala." 

"  The  joy,"  replied  the  witch,  —  "  the  joy  which  comes 


30  HAROLD. 

from  wisdom  and  power,  higher  than  you  ever  won  with 
your  spells  from  the  rune  or  the  star.  Wrath  gives  the 
venom  to  the  slaver  of  the  dog,  and  death  to  the  curse  of 
the  Witch.  When  wilt  thou  be  as  wise  as  the  hag  thou 
despisest  1  When  will  all  the  clouds  that  beset  thee  roll 
away  from  thy  ken  1  When  thy  hopes  are  all  crushed, 
when  thy  passions  lie  dead,  when  thy  pride  is  abased, 
when  thou  art  but  a  wreck,  like  the  shafts  of  this  temple, 
through  which  the  starlight  can  shine.  Then  only  thy 
soul  vi'ill  see  clearly  the  sense  of  the  runes,  and  then  thou 
and  I  will  meet  on  the  verge  of  the  Black  Shoreless 
Sea  !  " 

So,  despite  all  her  haughtiness  and  disdain,  did  these 
words  startle  the  lofty  Prophetess,  that  she  remained 
gazing  into  space  long  after  that  fearful  apparition  had 
vanished,  and  up  from  the  grass,  which  those  obscene 
steps  had  profaned,  sprang  the  lark  carolling. 

But  ere  the  sun  had  dispelled  the  dews  on  the  forest 
sward,  Hilda  had  recovered  her  wonted  calm,  and,  locked 
■within  her  own  secret  chamber,  prepared  the  seid  and  the 
runes  for  the  invocation  of  the  dead. 


HAROLD.  31 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Resolving,  should  the  auguries  consulted  permit  him  to 
depart,  to  intrust  Gurth  with  the  charge  of  informing 
]'](lith,  Harold  parted  from  his  betrotlied  without  hint  of 
his  suspended  designs  ;  and  he  passed  the  day  in  making 
all  preparations  for  his  absence  and  his  journey,  promising 
Gurth  to  give  his  final  answer  on  the  morrow,  when 
either  himself  or  his  brother  should  depart  for  Rouen ; 
l)ut  more  and  more  impressed  with  the  arguments  of 
Gurth  and  his  own  sober  reason,  and  somewhat  perhaps 
influenced  by  the  forebodings  of  Edith  (for  that  mind, 
once  so  constitutionally  firm,  had  become  tremulously 
alive  to  such  airy  influences),  he  had  almost  predeter- 
mined to  assent  to  his  brother's  prayer,  when  he  departed 
to  keep  his  dismal  appointment  with  the  Morthwyrtha. 
The  night  was  dim,  but  not  dark ;  no  moon  shone,  but 
the  stars,  wan  though  frequent,  gleamed  pale,  as  from  the 
farthest  deeps  of  the  heaven  ;  clouds  gray  and  fleecy 
rolled  slowly  across  the  welkin,  veiling  and  disclosing,  by 
turns,  the  melancholy  orbs. 

The  Morthwyrtha,  in  her  dark  dress,  stood  within  the 
circle  of  stones.  She  had  already  kindled  a  fire  at  the 
foot  of  the  bautastein,  and  its  glare  shone  redly  on 
the  gray  shafts,  playing  through  their  forlorn  gaps  upon 
the  sward.  By  her  side  was  a  vessel,  seemingly  of  pure 
water,  filled  from  the  old  Roman  fountain,  and  its  clear 
surface  flashed  blood-red  in  the  beams.  Behind  them,  in 
a  circle  round  both  fire  and  water,  were  fragments  of 
bark,  cut  in  a  peculiar  form,  like  the  head  of  an  arrow, 


32  HAROLD. 

and  inscribed  with  the  mystic  letters ;  nine  were  the  frag- 
ments, and  on  each  fragment  were  graved  the  runes.  In 
her  right  hand  the  Morthwyrtha  held  her  seid  staff;  her 
feet  were  bare,  and  her  loins  girt  by  the  Hunnish  belt, 
inscribed  with  mystic  letters ;  from  the  belt  hung  a 
pouch  or  gipsire  of  bear-skin,  with  plates  of  silver.  Her 
face,  as  Harold  entered  the  circle,  had  lost  its  usual  calm, 
—  it  was  wild  and  troubled. 

She  seemed  unconscious  of  Harold's  presence,  and  her 
eye,  fixed  and  rigid,  was  as  that  of  one  in  a  trance. 
Slowly,  as  if  constrained  by  some  power  not  her  own,  she 
began  to  move  round  the  ring  with  a  measured  pace, 
and  at  last  her  voice  broke  low,  hollow,  and  internal, 
into  a  rugged  chant,  which  may  be  thus  imperfectly 
translated,  — 

"By  tlie  Urdar- fount  dwelling, 
Da}^  by  day  from  the  rill 
The  Nomas  besprinkle 

The  ash  Ygg-drassill.^ 
The  hart  bites  the  buds, 

And  the  snake  gnaws  the  root, 
But  the  eagle,  all-seeing, 
Keeps  watch  on  the  fruit. 

"  These  drops  on  thy  tomb 

From  the  fountain  I  pour  ; 
Witli  the  rune  I  invoke  thee. 

With  flame  I  restore. 
Dread  Father  of  men. 

In  the  land  of  thy  grave 
Give  voice  to  the  Vala, 

And  light  to  the  Brave." 

As  she  thus  chanted,  the  Morthwyrtha  now  sprinkled 
the  drops  from  the  vessel  over  the  bautastein,  —  now  one 

1  Ygq-drassiJl ,  the  mystic  Ash-tree  of  Life,  or  symbol  of  the 
earth,  watered  by  the  Fates, 


HAROLD.  33 

by  one  cast  the  fragments  of  bark  scrawled  with  runes  on 
the  fire.  Then,  whether  or  not  some  glutinous  or  other 
chemical  material  had  been  mingled  in  the  water,  a  pale 
gleam  broke  from  the  gravestone  thus  besprinkled,  and 
the  whole  tomb  glistened  in  the  light  of  the  leaping  fire. 
From  this  light  a  mist  or  thin  smoke  gradually  rose,  and 
took,  though  vaguely,  the  outline  of  a  vast  human  form  ; 
but  so  indefinite  was  the  outline  to  Harold's  eye,  that, 
gazing  on  it  steadily,  and  stilling  with  strong  effort  his 
loud  heart,  he  knew  not  whether  it  was  a  phantom  or  a 
vapor  that  he  beheld. 

The  Vala  paused,  leaning  on  her  staff,  and  gazing  in 
awe  on  the  glowing  stone,  while  the  earl,  with  his  arms 
folded  on  his  broad  breast,  stood  hushed  and  motionless. 
The  sorceress  recommenced,  — 

"  Mighty  Dead,  I  revere  thee, 
Dim-shaped  from  the  cloud, 
With  the  light  of  thy  deeds 
For  the  web  of  thy  shroud  ; 

"As  Odin  consulted 

Mimir's  skull  hollowed-eyed,* 
Odin's  heir  comes  to  seek 
In  the  phantom  a  guide." 

As  the  Morthwyrtha  ceased,  the  fire  crackled  loud,  and 
from  its  flame  flew  one  of  the  fragments  of  bark  to  the 
feet  of  the  sorceress,  —  the  runic  letters  all  indented  with 
sparks. 

The  sorceress  uttered  a  loud  cry,  which,  despite  his 
courage  and  his  natural  strong  sense,  thrilled  through  the 
earl's  heart  to  his  marrow  and  bones,  so  appalling  was  it 

1  Mimir,  the  most  celebrated  of  the  giants.     The  Vaner  with 
whom  he  was  left  as  a  hostage  cut  off  his  head.     Odin  embalmed 
it  by  his  seid,  or  magic  art,  pronounced  over  it  mystic  runes,  and 
ever  after  consulted  it  on  critical  occasions. 
VOL.  n.  —  3 


34  HAROLD. 

with  wrath  and  terror  ;  and  while  she  gazed  aghast  on 
the  blazing  letters,  she  burst  forth,  — 

•'  No  warrior  art  thou, 

And  no  child  of  the  tomb  ; 
I  know  thee,  and  shudder, 
Great  Asa  of  Doom. 

"  Thou  constrainest  my  lips, 
And  thou  crushest  my  spell, 
Bright  Son  of  the  Giant,  — 
Dark  Father  of  Hell ! "  ^ 

The  whole  form  of  the  Morthwyrtha  then  became  con- 
vulsed and  agitated,  as  if  with  the  tempest  of  frenzy  ;  the 
foam  gathered  to  her  lips,  and  her  voice  rang  forth  hke  a 
shriek,  — 

"  In  the  Iron  Wood  rages 
The  Weaver  of  Harm, 
The  giant  Blood -drinker 
Hag-born  Managarm.'* 

"  A  keel  nears  the  shoal ; 

From  the  slime  and  the  mud 
Crawl  the  newt  and  the  adder, 
The  spawn  of  the  flood. 

^  Asa-Lok  or  Loke  (distinct  froin  Utgard-Lok,  the  demon  of  the 
Infernal  Regions)  descended  from  the  Giants,  but  received  among 
the  celestial  deities ;  a  treacherous  and  malignant  Power,  fond  of 
assuming  disguises  and  plotting  evil ;  —  corresponding  in  his  at- 
tributes with  our  "  Lucifer."  One  of  his  progeny  was  Ilela,  tlie 
queen  of  Hell. 

'^  "  A  hag  dwells  in  a  wood  called  Jamvid,  the  Iron  Wood,  the 
mother  of  many  gigantic  sons,  shaped  like  wolves;  there  is  one  of 
a  race  more  fearful  than  all,  named  'Managarm.'  He  will  be 
filled  with  the  l)lood  of  men  who  draw  near  their  end,  and  will 
swallow  up  the  moon  and  stain  the  heavens  imd  the  earth  with 
blood."  —  From  the  "Prose  Edda."  In  tlie  .Scandinavian  poetry, 
Managarm  is  sometimes  the  symbol  of  ivar,  and  the  "  Iron  Wood  " 
a  metaphor  for  spears. 


HAROLD.  35 

"  Thoii  stand'st  on  the  rock 

Where  the  dreamer  beheld  thee. 
O  soul,  spread  thy  wings 
Ere  the  glamour  hath  spell'd  thee. 

"  Oh,  dread  is  the  tempter, 
And  strong  the  control ; 
But  conquered  the  tempter. 
If  firm  be  the  soul !  " 

The  Yala  paused  ;  and  though  it  was  evident  that  in 
her  frenzy  she  was  still  unconscious  of  Harold's  presence, 
and  seemed  but  to  be  the  compelled  and  passive  voice  to 
some  Power,  real  or  imaginary,  beyond  her  own  existence, 
the  proud  man  approached,  and  said,  — 

"  Firm  shall  be  my  soul  ;  nor  of  the  dangers  which 
beset  it  would  I  ask  the  dead  or  the  living.  If  plain 
answers  to  mortal  sense  can  come  from  these  airy  shadows 
or  these  mystic  charms,  reply,  0  interpreter  of  fate  ;  reply 
but  to  the  questions  I  demand.  If  I  go  to  the  court  of 
the  Xorman,  shall  I  return  unscathed  ?  " 

The  Vala  stood  rigid  as  a  shape  of  stone  while  Harold 
thus  spoke,  and  her  voice  came  so  low  and  strange  as  if 
forced  from  her  scarce-moving  lips,  — 

"  Thou  shalt  return  unscathed." 

"  Shall  the  hostages  of  Godwin,  my  father,  be  re- 
released  1 " 

"  The  hostages  of  Godwin  shall  be  released,"  answered 
the  same  voice ;  "  the  hostage  of  Harold  be  retained." 

"  Wherefore  hostage  from  me  ?  " 

"  In  pledge  of  alliance  with  the  Norman." 

"  Ha  !  then  the  Norman  and  Harold  shall  plight  friend- 
ship and  troth  ? " 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  Vala ;  but  this  time  a  visible 
shudder  passed  over  her  rigid  form. 


36  HAROLD. 

"  Two  questions  more,  and  I  have  done  The  Norman 
priests  have  the  ear  of  the  Roman  pontiff.  Shall  my 
league  with  William  the  Norman  avail  to  win  me  my 
bride?" 

"  It  will  win  thee  the  bride  thou  wouldst  never  have 
wedded  but  for  thy  league  with  William  the  Norman. 
Peace  with  thy  questions,  peace ! "  continued  the  voice, 
trembling  as  with  some  fearful  struggle  ;  "  for  it  is  the 
Demon  that  forces  my  words,  and  they  wither  my  soul  to 
speak  them." 

"  But  one  question  more  remains  ;  shall  I  live  to  wear 
the  crown  of  England  ;  and  if  so,  when  shall  I  be  a 
king?" 

At  these  words  the  face  of  the  prophetess  kindled,  the 
fire  suddenly  leaped  up  higher  and  brighter  ;  again,  vivid 
sparks  lighted  the  runes  on  the  fragments  of  bark  that 
were  shot  from  the  flame  ;  over  these  last  the  Morth- 
wyrtha  bowed  her  head,  and  then,  lifting  it,  triumphantly 
burst  once  more  into  song. 


*D' 


"  When  the  Wolf  Month,i  grim  and  still, 
Heaps  the  snow-mass  on  the  hill  ; 
When,  through  white  air  sharp  and  bitter, 
Mocking  sunbeams  freeze  and  glitter ; 
When  the  ice-gems,  bright  and  barbed. 
Deck  the  boughs  the  leaves  had  garbed, 
Then  the  measure  shall  be  meted, 
And  the  circle  be  completed. 
Cerdic's  race,  the  Thor-descended, 
In  the  ]\Ionk-king's  tomb  be  ended  ; 
And  no  Saxon  brow  but  thine 
Wear  the  crown  of  Woden's  line. 

^  Wolf  Month,  January. 


HAROLD.  37 


"  Where  thou  wendest,  wend  unfearing, 
Every  step  thy  throne  is  nearing. 
Fraud  may  plot  and  force  assail  thee, — 
Shall  the  soul  thou  trustest  fail  thee? 
If  it  fail  thee,  scornful  hearer, 
Still  the  throne  shines  near  and  nearer. 
Guile  with  guile  oppose,  and  never 
Crown  and  brow  shall  Force  dissever, 
Till  the  dead  men,  unforgiving, 
Loose  the  war-steeds  on  the  living  ; 
Till  a  sun  whose  race  is  ending 
Sees  the  rival  stars  contending. 
Where  the  dead  men  unforgiving, 
Wheel  the  war-steeds  round  the  living. 

"  Where  thou  wendest,  wend  unfearing ; 
Every  step  thy  throne  is  nearing. 
Never  shall  thy  House  decay. 
Nor  thy  sceptre  pass  away. 
While  the  Saxon  name  endureth 
In  the  land  thy  throne  secureth. 
Saxon  name  and  throne  together. 
Leaf  and  root,  shall  wax  and  wither ; 
So  the  measure  shall  be  meted, 
And  the  circle  close  completed. 

"  Art  thou  answered,  dauntless  seeker? 
Go,  thy  bark  shall  ride  the  breaker  ; 
Every  billow,  high  and  higher, 
Waft  thee  up  to  thy  desire  ; 
And  a  force  beyond  thine  own, 
Drift  and  strand  thee  on  the  throne. 

"  When  the  Wolf  Month,  grim  and  still. 
Piles  the  snow-mass  on  the  hill, 
In  the  white  air  sharp  and  bitter 
Shall  thy  kingly  sceptre  glitter: 


38  HAROLD. 

When  the  ice-gems  barb  the  bough 
Shall  the  jewels  clasp  thy  brow  ; 
Winter-wind,  the  oak  up-rending  ; 
With  the  altar-anthem  blending, 
Wind  shall  howl,  and  mone  shall  sing, 
'  Hail  to  Harold,—  Hail  the  King  ! '  " 


An  exultation  that  seemed  more  than  human,  so  intense 
it  was,  and  so  solemn,  thrilled,  in  the  voice  whicli  thus 
closed  predictions  that  seemed  signally  to  belie  the  more 
vague  and  menacing  warnings  with  which  the  dreary 
incantation  had  commenced.  The  Morthwyrtha  stood 
erect  and  stately,  still  gazing  on  the  pale-blue  flame  that 
rose  from  the  burial-stone,  till  slowly  the  flame  waned 
and  paled,  and  at  last  died  with  a  sudden  flicker,  leaving 
the  gray  tomb  standing  forth  all  weather-worn  and  deso- 
late, while  a  wind  rose  from  the  north  and  sighed  through 
the  roofless  columns.  Then,  as  the  light  over  the  grave 
expired,  Hilda  gave  a  deep  sigh,  and  fell  to  the  ground 
senseless. 

Harold  lifted  his  eyes  towards  the  stars,  and  mur- 
mured, — 

"  If  it  be  a  sin,  as  the  priests  say,  to  pierce  the  dark 
walls  which  surround  us  here,  and  read  the  future  in  the 
dim  world  beyond,  why  gavest  thou,  O  Heaven,  the 
reason,  never  resting,  save  when  it  explores  1  Why  hast 
thou  set  in  the  heart  the  mystic  Law  of  Desire,  ever  toil- 
ing to  the  High,  ever  grasping  at  the  Far  ?  " 

Heaven  answered  not  the  unquiet  soul.  The  clouds 
passed  to  and  fro  in  their  wanderings,  the  wind  still 
sighed  through  the  hollow  stones,  the  fire  shot  with  vain 
sparks  towards  the  distant  stars.  In  the  cloud  and  the 
wind  and  the  fire  couldst  thou  read  no  answer  from 
Heaven,  unquiet  soul  1 


HAROLD.  39 

The  next  day,  with  a  gallant  company,  the  falcon  on 
his  wrist,  ^  the  sprightly  hound  gambolling  before  his 
steed,  blithe  of  heart  and  high  in  hope,  Earl  Harold  took 
his  way  to  the  iN^orman  court. 

1  Bayeux  tapestry. 


BOOK    IX. 


THE   BONES   OP   THE   DEAD. 


CHAPTER   I. 

William,  count  of  the  Normans,  sat  in  a  fair  chamber 
of  his  palace  of  Rouen  ;  and  on  the  large  table  before 
him  were  ample  evidences  of  the  various  labors,  as 
"warrior,  chief,  thinker,  and  statesman,  which  filled  the 
capacious  breadth  of  that  sleepless  mind. 

There  lay  a  plan  of  the  new  poi-t  of  Cherbourg,  and 
beside  it  an  open  MS.  of  the  duke's  favorite  book, 
the  Commentaries  of  Caesar,  from  which,  it  is  said,  he 
borrowed  some  of  the  tactics  of  his  own  martial  science; 
marked  and  dotted  and  interlined  with  his  large  bold 
handwriting,  were  the  words  of  the  great  Roman.  A 
score  or  so  of  Ion"  arrows,  which  had  received  some 
skilful  improvement  in  feather  or  bolt,  lay  carelessly 
scattered  over  some  architectural  sketches  of  a  new 
abbey  church,  and  the  proposed  charter  for  its  endow- 
ment. An  open  cyst,  of  the  beautful  workmanship  for 
which  the  English  goldsmiths  were  then  pre-eminently 
renowned,  that  had  been  among  the  parting  gifts  of 
Edward,  contained  letters  from  the  various  potentates 
near  and  far,  who  sought  his  alliance  or  menaced  his 
repose. 


42  HAROLD. 

On  a  percli  behind  liim  sat  bis  favorite  Norway  falcon, 
unliooded,  for  it  bad  been  taugbt  the  finest  polish  in  its 
dainty  education  ;  namely,  "  to  face  company  undisturbed." 
At  a  kind  of  easel  at  the  farther  end  of  tlie  hall,  a  dwarf, 
misshapen  in  limbs,  but  of  a  face  singularly  acute  and 
intelligent,  was  employed  in  the  outline  of  that  famous 
action  at  Val  des  Dunes,  whicli  had  been  the  scene  of  one 
of  the  most  brilliant  of  William's  feats  in  arms,  —  an  out- 
line intended  to  be  transferred  to  the  notable  "  stitch 
work  "  of  Matilda  the  Duchess. 

Upon  tlie  floor,  playing  with  a  huge  boar-hound  of 
English  breed,  that  seemed  but  ill  to  like  tlie  play,  and 
every  now  and  then  snarled  and  showed  his  white  teeth, 
was  a  young  boy,  with  something  of  the  duke's  features, 
but  with  an  expression  more  open  and  less  sagacious ;  and 
something  of  the  duke's  broad  build  of  chest  and  shoulder, 
but  without  promise  of  the  duke's  stately  stature,  which 
was  needed  to  give  grace  and  dignity  to  a  strength  other- 
wise cumbrous  and  graceless.  And  indeed,  since  William's 
visit  to  England,  his  athletic  shape  had  lost  much  of  its 
youthful  symmetry,  though  not  yet  deformed  by  that 
corpulence  which  was  a  disease  almost  as  rare  in  the 
Norman  as  the  Spartan.  Nevertheless,  what  is  a  defect 
in  the  gladiator  is  often  but  a  beauty  in  the  prince  ;  and 
the  duke's  large  proportions  filled  the  eye  with  a  sense 
both  of  regal  majesty  and  physical  power.  His  counte- 
nance yet  more  than  his  form  showed  the  work  of  time  : 
the  short,  dark  hair  was  worn  into  partial  baldness  at  the 
temples  by  the  habitual  friction  of  the  casque ;  and  the 
constant  indulgence  of  wily  stratagem  and  ambitious 
ci'aft  had  deepened  the  wrinkles  round  the  plotting  eye 
and  the  firm  mouth,  so  that  it  was  only  by  an  effort 
like  that  of  an  actor  that  liis  aspect  regained  the  knightly 
and  noble  frankness  it  had  once  worn.     The  accomplished 


HAROLD.  43 

prince  was  no  longer,  in  truth,  what  the  bold  warrior  had 
been,  —  he  was  greater  in  state  and  less  in  soul.  And 
already,  despite  all  his  grand  qualities  as  a  ruler,  his 
imperious  nature  had  betrayed  signs  of  what  he  (whose 
constitutional  sternness  the  Norman  freeman,  not  without 
effort,  curbed  into  the  limits  of  justice)  might  become,  if 
wider  scope  were  afforded  to  his  fiery  passions  and  unspar- 
ing will. 

Before  the  duke,  who  was  leaning  his  chin  on  his 
hand,  stood  Mallet  de  Graville,  speaking  earnestly,  and 
his  discourse  seemed  both  to  interest  and  please  his 
lord. 

"  Eno  ' !  "  said  Yfilliam,  "  I  comprehend  the  nature 
of  the  land  and  its  men,  —  a  land  that,  untaught  by 
experience,  and  persuaded  that  a  peace  of  twenty  or 
thirty  years  must  last  till  the  orack  of  doom,  neglects 
all  its  defences,  and  has  not  one  fort,  save  Dover,  between 
the  coast  and  the  capital ;  a  land  which  must  be  won  or 
lost  by  a  single  battle,  and  men  [here  the  duke  hesitated] 
—  and  men"  he  resumed  with  a  sigh,  "  whom  it  will  be 
so  hard  to  conquer,  that,  pardex,  I  don't  wonder  they 
neglect  their  fortresses.  Enough,  I  say,  of  them.  Let  us 
return  to  Harold,  —  thou  thiukest,  then,  that  he  is  worthy 
of  his  fame  1  " 

"  He  is  almost  the  only  Englishman  I  have  seen," 
answered  De  Graville,  "who  hath  received  scholarly 
rearing  and  nurture ;  and  all  his  faculties  are  so  evenly 
balanced,  and  all  accompanied  by  so  composed  a  calm, 
that  methinks,  when  I  look  at  and  hear  him,  I  contem- 
plate some  artful  castle,  the  strength  of  which  can  never 
be  known  at  tlie  first  glance,  nor  except  by  those  who 
assail  it." 

"Thou  art  mistaken.  Sire  de  Graville,"  said  the  duke, 
with    a   shrewd    and    cunning    twinkle    of  his    luminous 


44  HAKOLD. 

dark  eyes  ;  "  for  thou  tellest  me  that  he  hath  no  thought  of 
my  pretensions  to  the  English  throne,  that  he  inchnes 
willingly  to  thy  suggestions  to  come  himself  to  my  court 
for  the  hostages,  —  that,  in  a  word,  he  is  not  suspicious." 

"  Certes,  he  is  not  suspicious,"  returned  Mallet. 

"  And  thinkest  thou  that  an  artful  castle  were  worth 
much  without  warder  or  sentry,  —  or  a  cultivated  mind 
strong  and  safe,  without  its  watchman,  Suspicion  1  " 

"  Truly,  my  lord  speaks  well  and  wisely,"  said  the 
knight,  startled  :  "  hut  Harold  is  a  man  thoroughly  Eng- 
lish and  the  English  are  a  gens  the  least  suspecting  of  any 
created  thing  between  an  angel  and  a  sheep." 

William  laughed  aloud.  But  his  laugh  was  checked 
suddenly ;  for  at  that  moment  a  fierce  yell  smote  his 
ears,  and,  looking  hastily  up,  he  saw  his  hound  and  his 
son  rolling  together  on  the  ground  in  a  grapple  that 
seemed  deadly. 

William  sprang  to  the  spot ;  but  the  boy,  who  was 
then  under  the  dog,  cried  out,  —  "  Laissez  oiler  !  Laissez 
oiler  !  no  rescue  !  I  will  master  ray  own  foe ;  "  and  so 
saying  with  a  vigorous  effort  he  gained  his  knee,  and  with 
both  hands  griped  the  hound's  throat,  so  that  the  beast 
twisted  in  vain  to  and  fro  with  gnashing  jaws,  and  in 
another  minute  would  have  panted  out  its  last. 

"I  may  save  my  good  hound  now,"  said  "William, 
with  tlie  gay  smile  of  his  earlier  days ;  and,  though  not 
without  some  exertion  of  his  prodigious  strength,  he  drew 
the  dog  from  his  son's  grasp. 

"  That  was  ill  done,  father,"  said  Robert,  surnamed 
even  then  the  Courthose,  "  to  take  part  with  thy  son's  foe." 

"  But  my  son's  foe  is  thy  father's  property,  my  vail- 
lant,''  said  the  duke  ;  "and  thou  must  answer  to  me  for 
treason  in  provoking  quarrel  and  feud  with  my  own  four- 
footed  vavasour." 


HAROLD.  45 

"  It  is  not  thy  property,  father ;  thou  gavest  the  dog  to 
me  when  a  whelp." 

"  Fables,  Alonseigneiir  de  Conrthose ;  I  lent  it  to 
thee  but  for  a  day,  when  thou  hadst  put  out  thine  ankle- 
bone  in  jumping  off  the  rampire  ;  and  all  maimed  as  thou 
wert,  thou  hadst  still  malice  enow  in  thee  to  worry  the 
poor  beast  into  a  fever." 

"  Gave  or  lent,  it  is  the  same  thing,  father ;  what  I  have 
once,  that  will  I  hold,  as  thou  didst  before  me.in  thy  cradle." 

Then  the  great  duke,  who  in  his  own  house  was  the 
fondest  and  weakest  of  men,  was  so  doltish  and  doting  as 
to  take  the  boy  in  his  arms  and  kiss  him,  —  nor,  with  all 
his  far-sighted  sagacity,  deemed  he  that  in  that  kiss  lay 
the  seed  of  the  awful  curse  that  grew  up  from  a  father's 
agony,  to  end  in  a  son's  misery  and  perdition. 

Even  Mallet  de  Graville  frowned  at  the  sight  of  the 
sire's  infirmity, — even  Turold  the  dwarf  shook  his  head. 
At  that  moment  an  officer  entered,  and  announced  that  an 
English  nobleman,  apparently  in  great  haste  (for  his 
horse  had  dropped  down  dead  as  he  dismounted),  had 
arrived  at  the  palace,  and  craved  instant  audience  of  the 
duke.  William  put  down  the  boy,  gave  the  brief  order 
for  the  stranger's  admission,  and,  punctilious  in  ceremo- 
nial, beckoning  De  Graville  to  follow  him,  passed  at  once 
into  the  next  chamber,  and  seated  himself  on  his  chair  of 
state. 

In  a  few  moments  one  of  the  seneschals  of  the  palace 
ushered  in  a  visitor,  whose  long  mustache  at  once  pro- 
claimed him  Saxon,  and  in  whom  De  Graville  with 
surprise  recognized  his  old  friend  Godrith.  The  young 
thegn,  -with  a  reverence  more  hasty  than  that  to  which 
William  was  accustomed,  advanced  to  the  foot  of  the 
dais,  and,  using  the  Norman  language,  said,  in  a  voice 
thick  with  emotion,  —  » 


46  HAROLD. 

"  From  Harold  the  Earl,  greeting  to  thee,  Monseigneur. 
Most  foul  and  unchristian  wrong  hath  been  done  the  earl 
by  thy  liegeman  Guy,  Count  of  Ponthieu.  Sailing  hither 
in  two  barlis  from  England,  with  intent  to  visit  thy  court, 
storm  and  wind  drove  the  earl's  vessels  towards  the  mouth 
of  the  Somme  ;  ^  there  landing,  and  without  fear,  as  in  no 
hostile  country,  he  and  his  train  were  seized  by  the  count 
himself,  and  cast  into  prison  in  the  Castle  of  Belrem.^ 
A  dungeon  fit  but  for  malefactors,  holds,  while  I  speak, 
the  first  lord  of  England,  and  brother-in-law  to  its  king. 
Nay,  hints  of  famine,  torture,  and  death  itself,  have  been 
darkly  thrown  out  by  this  most  disloyal  count,  whether 
in  earnest,  or  with  the  base  view  of  heightening  ransom. 
At  length,  wearied  perhaps  by  tlie  earl's  firmness  and 
disdain,  this  traitor  of  Ponthieu  hath  permitted  me  in  the 
earl's  behalf  to  bear  the  message  of  Harold.  He  came  to 
thee  as  to  a  prince  and  a  friend  :  sufferest  thou  thy  liege- 
man to  detain  him  as  a  thief  or  a  foe  % " 

"Noble  Englishman,"  replied  William,  gravely,  "this 
is  a  matter  more  out  of  my  cognizance  than  thou  seemest 
to  think.  It  is  true  that  Guy,  Count  of  Ponthieu,  holds 
fief  under  me,  but  I  have  no  control  over  the  laws  of  his 
realm  ;  and  by  those  laws  he  hath  right  of  life  and  death 
over  all  stranded  and  waifed  on  his  coast.  Much  grieve  I 
for  the  mishap  of  your  famous  earl,  and  what  I  can  do  I 
will ;  but  I  can  only  treat  in  this  matter  with  Guy  as 
prince  with  prince,  not  as  lord  to  vassal.  Meanwhile  I 
pray  you  to  take  rest  and  food  ;  and  I  will  seek  prompt 
counsel  as  to  the  measures  to  adopt." 

The  Saxon's  face  showed  disappointment  and  dismay 
at  this  answer,  so  different  from  what  he  had  expected ; 
and  he   replied  with  the  natural  honest  bluntness  which 

1  "Roman  de  Ron."     See  part  ii.  1078. 

2  Belrem,  the  present  Beaurain,  near  Montreuil. 


HAROLD.  47 

all  Ills  younger  affection  of  ISTorman  manners  liad  never 
eradicated, — 

"  Food  will  I  not  touch,  nor  wine  drink,  till  thou. 
Lord  Count,  hast  decided  what  help,  as  noble  to  nohle, 
Christian  to  Christian,  man  to  man,  thou  givest  to  him 
who  has  come  into  this  peril,  solely  from  his  trust  in 
thee." 

**  Alas  ! "  said  the  grand  dissimulator,  "  heavy  is  the 
responsibility  with  which  thine  ignorance  of  our  land, 
laws,  and  men  would  charge  me.  If  I  take  but  one 
false  step  in  this  matter,  woe  indeed  to  thy  lord !  Guy 
is  hot  and  haught}'",  and  in  his  droits  ;  he  is  capable  of 
sending  me  the  earl's  head  in  reply  to  too  dure  a  request 
for  his  freedom.  Much  treasure  and  broad  lands  will  it 
cost  me,  I  fear,  to  ransom  the  earl.  But  be  cheered  ;  half 
my  duchy  were  not  too  high  a  price  for  thy  lord's  safety. 
Go,  then,  and  eat  with  a  good  heart,  and  drink  to  the 
earl's  health   with  a  hopeful  prayer." 

"  An  it  please  you,  my  lord,"  said  De  Graville,  "  I  know 
this  gentle  thegn,  and  will  beg  of  you  the  grace  to  see  to 
his  entertainment,  and  sustain  his  spirits." 

"Thou  shalt,  but  later;  so  noble  a  guest  none  but  my 
chief  seneschal  should  be  the  first  to  honor."  Then,  turn- 
ing to  the  officer  in  waiting,  he  bade  him  lead  the  Saxon 
to  the  chamber  tenanted  by  William  Fitzosborne  (who 
then  lodged  within  the  palace),  and  committed  him  to 
that  count's  care. 

As  the  Saxon  sullenly  withdrew,  and  as  the  door  closed 
on  him,  William  rose  and  strode  to  and  fro  the  room 
exultingly. 

"  I  have  him !  I  have  him  !  "  he  cried  aloud  ;  "not  as 
free  guest,  but  as  ransomed  captive.  I  have  him,  —  the 
earl !  —  I  have  him  !  Go,  Mallet,  my  friend,  now  seek 
this   sour-looking  Englishman  ;  and,   hark  thee  !    fill  his 


48  HAROLD. 

ears  with  all  the  tales  thou  caust  think  of  as  to  Guy's 
cruelty  and  ire.  Enforce  all  tlie  difficulties  that  lie  iu 
iny  way  towards  the  earl's  delivery.  Great  make  the 
danger  of  the  earl's  capture,  and  vast  all  the  favor  of 
release.     Comprehendest  thou  1 " 

"  I  am  Norman,  Monseigneiir,''  replied  De  Graville, 
with  a  slight  smile  ;  "  and  we  Nortuans  can  make  a  short 
mantle  cover  a  large  space.  You  will  not  be  displeased 
with  my  address." 

"  Go,  then,  —  go,"  said  William,  "  and  send  me  forth- 
with, Lanfranc  —  no,  hold,  not  Lanfranc,  he  is  too  scru- 
pulous ;  Fitzosborne,  —  no,  too  haughty.  Go  first  to  my 
brother,  Odo  of  Bayeux,  and  pray  him  to  seek  me  on  the 
instant." 

The  knight  bowed  and  vanished,  and  William  con- 
tinued to  pace  tlie  room  with  sparkling  eyes  and  murmur- 
ing lips. 


HAROLD.  49 


CHAPTER   II. 

Not  till  after  repeated  messages,  at  first  without  talk  of 
ransom,  and  in  high  tone,  affected,  no  doubt,  by  William 
to  spin  out  the  negotiations,  and  augment  the  value  of 
his  services,  did  Guy  of  Ponthieu  consent  to  release  his 
illustrious  captive,  —  the  guerdon,  a  large  sum  and  tm  bel 
manier  ^  on  the  river  Eaulne,  But  whether  that  guerdon 
were  tlie  fair  ransom-fee,  or  the  price  for  concerted  snare, 
no  man  now  can  say,  and  sharper  than  ours  the  wit  that 
forms  the  more  likely  guess.  These  stipulations  effected, 
Guy  himself  opened  the  doors  of  the  dungeon  •  and  affect- 
ing to  treat  the  whole  matter  as  one  of  law  and  right,  now 
happily  and  fairly  settled,  was  as  courteous  and  debon- 
air as  he  had  before  been  dark  and  menacing. 

He  even  himself,  with  a  brilliant  train,  accompanied 
Harold  to  the  Chdteau  d'Eu,'^  whither  William  journeyed 
to  give  him  the  meeting ;  and  laughed  with  a  gay  grace 
at  the  earl's  short  and  scornful  replies  to  his  compliments 
and  excuses.  At  the  gates  of  this  chateau,  not  famous, 
in  after-times,  for  tlie  good  faith  of  its  lords,  William 
himself,  laying  aside  all  the  pride  of  etiquette  which  he 
had  established  at  his  court,  came  to  receive  his  visitor ; 
and,  aiding  him  to  dismount,  embraced  him  cordially, 
amidst  a  loud  fanfaron  of  fifes  and  trumpets. 

The  flower  of  that  glorious  nobility,  which  a  few  gen- 
erations had  sufficed  to  rear  out  of  the  lawless  pirates  of 

1  "Roman  de  Kou,"  Part  ii.  1079. 

2  William  of  Poitiers,  "  apud  Aucense  Castrum." 

TOL.  II.  —  4 


60  HAROLD. 

the  Baltic,  had  been  selected  to  do  honor  alike  to  guest 
and  host. 

There  were  Hugo  de  Montfort  and  Eoger  de  Beaumont, 
famous  in  council  as  in  the  field,  and  already  gray  with 
fame.  There  was  Henri,  Sire  de  Ferrers,  wliose  name  is 
supposed  to  have  arisen  from  the  vast  forges  that  burned 
around  his  castle,  on  the  anvils  of  which  were  welded  the 
arms  impenetrable  in  every  field.  There  was  Raoul  de 
Tancarville,  the  old  tutor  of  William,  hereditary  Cliamber- 
lain  of  the  Norman  Counts  ;  and  Geoffroi  de  Mande- 
ville,  and  Tonstain  the  Fair,  whose  name  still  preserved, 
amidst  the  general  corruption  of  appellations,  the  evidence 
of  his  Danish  birth  ;  and  Hugo  de  Grantmesnil,  lately 
returned  from  exile  :  and  Humphrey  de  Bohun,  whose 
old  castle  in  Carcutau  may  yet  be  seen ;  and  St.  Juhn, 
and  Lacie,  and  D'Aincourt,  of  broad  lands  between  the 
Maine  and  th.e  Oise ;  and  William  de  Monthchet,  and 
Roger  nicknamed  "  Bigod,"  and  Roger  de  Alortemer  ;  and 
many  more,  whose  fame  lives  in  another  land  than  that 
of  Neustria  !  There,  too,  were  the  chief  jjrelates  and 
abbots  of  a  church,  that  since  William's  accession  had 
risen  into  repute  with  Rome  and  with  Learning,  unequalled 
on  this  side  the  Alps ;  their  white  aubes  over  their  gor- 
geous robes  ;  Lanfranc,  and  the  Bishop  of  Coutance,  and 
the  Abbot  of  Bee,  and  foremost  of  all  in  rank,  but  not 
in  learning,  Odo  of  Bayeux. 

So  great  the  assemblage  of  quens  and  prelates,  that 
there  was  small  room  in  the  courtyard  for  the  lesser 
knights  and  chiefs,  who  yet  hustled  each  other,  with  loss 
of  Norman  dignity,  for  a  sight  of  the  lion  which  guarded 
England.  And  still,  amidst  all  tliose  men  of  mark  and 
might,  Harold,  simple  and  calm,  looked  as  he  had  looked 
on  his  war-ship  in  the  Thames,  the  man  who  could  lead 
them  all ! 


HAROLD.  51 

Prom  those  indeed,  who  were  fortunate  enough  to  see 
him  as  he  passed  up  by  the  side  of  William,  as  tall  as  the 
duke,  and  no  less  erect,  —  of  for  slighter  bulk,  but  with 
a  strength  almost  equal,  to  a  practised  eye,  in  his  com- 
pacter  symmetry  and  more  supple  grace,  —  from  those 
who  saw  him  thus,  an  admiring  murnmr  rose  ;  for  no 
men  in  the  world  so  valued  and  cultivated  personal 
advantages  as  the  Nonnan  knighthood. 

Conversing  easily  with  Harold,  and  well  watching  him 
while  he  conversed,  the  duke  led  his  guest  into  a  private 
chamber  in  the  third  floor  ^  of  the  castle,  and  in  that 
chamber  were  Haco  and  Wolnoth. 

'"  This,  I  trust,  is  no  surprise  to  you,"  said  the  duk©, 
smiling  ;  "  and  now  I  shall  but  mar  your  commune."  So 
saying,  he  left  the  room,  and  Wolnoth  rushed  to  his 
brother's  arms,  while  Haco,  more  timidly,  drew  near  and 
touched  the  earl's  robe. 

As  soon  as  the  first  joy  of  the  meeting  was  over,  the 
earl  said  to  Haco,  whom  he  had  drawn  to  his  breast  with 
an  embrace  as  fond  as  that  bestowed  on  Wolnoth,  — 

''  Remembering  thee  a  boy,  T  came  to  say  to  thee,  *  Be 
my  son  ; '  but  seeing  thee  a  man,  I  change  the  prayer  :  — 
supply  thy  father's  place,  and  be  my  brother  !  And  thou, 
Wolnoth,  hast  thou  kept  thy  word  to  me'?  Norman  is 
thy  garb,  in  truth  ;  is  thy  heart  still  English  1" 

"  Hist !  "  whispered  Haco  5  *'  hist !  We  have  a  proverb, 
that  walls  have  ears-." 

*'  But  Norman  walls  can  hardly  understand  our  broad 
Saxon  of  Kent,  I  trust,"  said  Harold,  smiling,  though 
with  a  shade  on  his  brow. 

*'  True  ;  continue  to  speak  Saxon,"  said  Haco,  *'  and 
we  are  safe." 

^  As  soon  as  the  rude  fort  of  the  middle  ages  admitted  some- 
thing of  magnificence  and  display,  the  state-rooms  were  placed  Ju 
the  third  story  of  the  inner  court,  as  being  the  most  secure. 


52  HAROLD. 

"  Safe  !  "  echoed  Harokl. 

"  Haco's  fears  are  childish,  my  brother,"  said  Wolnoth, 
"  and  he  wrongs  the  duke." 

"Not  the  duke,  but  the  policy  which  surrounds  hira 
like  an  atmosphere,"  exclaimed  Haco.  "  Oh,  Harold, 
generous  indeed  wert  thou  to  come  hither  for  thy  kins- 
folk, —  generous  !  But  for  England's  weal,  better  that 
we  had  rotted  out  our  lives  in  exile,  ere  thou,  hope  and 
prop  of  England,  set  foot  in  these  webs  of  wile." 

"  Tut  ! "  said  Wolnoth,  impatiently ;  "  good  is  it  for 
England  that  the  Norman  and  Saxon  should  be  friends." 

Harold,  who  had  lived  to  grow  as  wise  in  men's  hearts 
as  his  father,  save  when  the  natural  trustfulness  that  lay 
under  his  calm  reserve  lulled  his  sagacity,  turned  his  eye 
steadily  on  the  faces  of  his  two  kinsmen  ;  and  he  saw  at 
the  first  glance  that  a  deeper  intellect  and  a  graver  temper 
than  Wolnoth's  fair  face  betrayed,  characterized  the  dark 
eye  and  serious  brow  of  Haco.  He  therefore  drew  his 
nephew  a  little  aside,  and  said  to  him,  — 

"  Forewarned  is  forearmed.  Deemest  thou  that  this 
fair-spoken  duke  will  dare  aught  against  my  life  1 " 

"  Life,  no  ;  liberty,  yes." 

Harold  started,  and  those  strong  passions  native  to  his 
breast,  but  usually  curbed  beneath  his  majestic  will, 
heaved  in  his  bosom  and  flashed  in  his  e3^e. 

"  Liberty  !  —  let  him  dare  !  Though  all  his  troops 
paved  the  way  from  his  court  to  his  coasts,  I  would  hevv 
my  way  tlirough  their  ranks." 

"Deemest  tliou  that  I  am  a  coward  1 "  said  Haco, 
simply  ;  "  yet  contrary  to  all  law  and  justice,  and  against 
King  Edward's  well-known  remonstrance,  hath  not  the 
count  detained  me  years,  yea,  long  years,  in  his  land  t 
Kind  are  his  words,  wily  his  deeds.  Fear  not  force  ;  fear 
fraud."    i 


HAROLD.  63 

"  I  fear  neither,"  answered  Harold,  drawing  himself  up, 
*'  nor  do  I  repent  me  one  moment  —  no  !  nor  did  I  repent 
in  the  dungeon  of  that  felon  count,  whom  God  grant  me 
life  to  repay  with  fire  and  sword  for  his  treason  —  tliat  I 
myself  have  come  hither  to  demand  my  kinsmen.  I  come 
in  the  name  of  England,  strong  in  her  might,  and  sacred 
in  her  majesty." 

Before  Haco  could  reply,  the  door  opened,  and  Raoul 
de  Tancarville,  as  grand  chamberlain,  entered,  with  all 
Harohl's  Saxon  train  and  a  goodly  number  of  Norman 
squires  and  attendants,  bearing  rich  vestures. 

The  noble  bowed  to  tlie  earl  witli  his  country's  polished 
courtesy,  and  besought  leave  to  lead  him  to  the  bath, 
while  his  own  squires  prepared  his  raiment  for  the  ban- 
quet to  be  held  in  his  honor.  So  all  further  conference 
with  his  young  kinsmen  was  then  suspended. 

The  duke,  who  affected  a  state  no  less  regal  than  that 
of  the  court  of  France,  permitted  no  one,  save  his  own 
family  and  guests,  to  sit  at  his  own  table.  His  great 
officers  (those  imperious  lords)  stood  beside  his  chair ; 
and  William  Fitzosborne,  ''tlie  Proud  Spirit,"  placed  on 
the  board  with  his  own  liand  the  dainty  dishes  for  which 
the  Norman  cooks  were  renowned.  And  great  men  were 
those  Norman  cooks  ;  and  often  for  some  "  delicate,"  more 
ravishing  than  wont,  gold  cliain  and  gem,  and  even  "  hel 
maneir,^'  fell  to  their  guerdon.^  It  was  worth  being  a 
cook  in  those  days ! 

The  most  seductive  of  men  was  William  in  his  fair 
moods  ;  and  he  lavished  all  the  witcheries  at  his  control 
upon  his  guest.  If  possible,  yet  more  gracious  was 
Matilda  the  Duchess.  This  woman,  eminent  for  mental 
culture,   for   personal   beauty,   a,nd    for   a   spirit    and  an 

1  A  manor  (but,  not, alas!  in  Normandy)  was  held  by  one  of  his 
cooks,  on  the  tenure  of  supplying  William  with  a  dish  of  dillegrout. 


54  HAEOLD. 

ambition  no  less  great  than  lier  lord's,  knew  well  how 
to  choose  such  subjects  of  discourse  as  might  most  flatter 
an  English  ear.  Her  connection  with  Harold,  through 
her  sister's  marriage  with  Tostig,  warranted  a  familiarity 
almost  caressing,  which  she  assumed  towards  the  comely 
earl ;  and  she  insisted,  with  a  winning  smile,  that  all  the 
hours  the  duke  would  leave  at  his  disposal,  he  must  spend 
with  her. 

The  banquet  was  enlivened  by  the  song  of  the  great 
Taillefer  himself,  wlio  selected  a  theme  that  artfully 
flattered  alike  the  Norman  and  the  Saxon,  —  namely,  the 
aid  given  by  Eolfganger  to  Athelstan,  and  the  alliance  be- 
tween the  Engiisli  king  and  the  Norman  founder.  Ho 
dexterously  introduced  into  the  song  praises  of  the  English, 
and  the  value  of  their  friendship  ;  and  the  countess  sig- 
nificantly applauded  each  gallant  compliment  to  the  land 
of  the  famous  guest.  If  Harold  was  pleased  by  such 
poetic  courtesies,  lie  was  yet  more  surprised  by  the  high 
honor  in  which  duke,  baron,  and  prelate  evidently  held 
the  poet  :  for  it  was  among  tlie  worst  signs  of  that  sordid 
spirit,  honoring  only  wealth,  which  had  crept  over  the 
original  character  of  the  Anglo-Saxon,  that  the  bard,  or 
scop,  with  them,  had  sunk  into  great  disrepute,  and  it 
Avas  even  forbidden  to  ecclesiastics  ^  to  admit  such  landless 
vagrants  to  their  company. 

Much,  indeed,  tliere  was  in  that  court  which,  even  on 
the  first  day,  Harold  saw  to  admire  :  tliat  stately  temper- 
ance, so  foreign  to  English  excesses  (but  which,  alas  !  the 
Norman  kept  not  long  when  removed  to  another  soil)  ; 
that  methodical  state  and  noble  pomp  which  characterized 
the  Feudal  system,  linking  so  harmoniously  prince  to 
peer,  and  peer  to  knight ;    the   easy  grace,  the  polished 

1  The  council  of  Cloveshoe  forbade  the  clergy  to  harbor  poets, 
harpers,  musicians,  and  buffoons. 


HAROLD.  55 

wit  of  the  courtiers  ;  the  wisdom  of  Lanfranc  and  the 
higher  ecclesiastics,  blending  worldly  lore  with  decorous, 
not  pedantic,  regard  to  their  sacred  calling ;  the  en- 
lightened love  of  music,  letters,  song,  and  art,  wliich 
colored  the  discourse  both  of  duke  and  duchess  and  the 
younger  courtiers,  prone  to  emulate  high  example,  whether 
for  ill  or  good,  —  all  impressed  Harold  with  a  sense  of 
civilization  and  true  royalty,  which  at  once  saddened  and 
inspired  his  musing  mind  :  saddened  him  when  he  thought 
how  far  behindhand  England  was  in  much  with  this  com- 
paratively petty  principality,  —  inspired  him  when  he  felt 
what  one  great  chief  can  do  for  his  native  land. 

The  unfavorable  impressions  made  upon  his  thoughts 
by  Haco's  warnings,  could  scarcely  fail  to  yield  beneath 
the  prodigal  courtesies  lavished  upon  him,  and  the  frank 
openness  with  which  William  laughingly  excused  himself 
for  having  so  long  detained  the  hostages,  "  in  order,  my 
guest,  to  make  thee  come  and  fetch  them  ;  and,  by  St. 
Valery,  now  thou  art  here,  thou  shalt  not  depart  till  at 
least  thou  hast  lost  in  gentler  memories  the  recollection 
of  the  scurvy  treatment  thou  hast  met  from  that  barbar- 
ous count ;  nay,  never  bite  thy  lip,  Harold,  my  friend, 
leave  to  me  thy  revenge  upon  Guy.  Sooner  or  later,  the 
very  maneir  he  hath  extorted  from  me  shall  give  excuse 
for  sword  and  lance,  and  then,  pardex,  thou  shalt  come 
and  cross  steel  in  thine  own  quarrel.  How  I  rejoice  that 
I  can  show  to  the  heaxi  frere  of  my  dear  cousin  and 
seigneur  some  return  for  all  the  courtesies  the  English 
king  and  kingdom  bestowed  upon  me  !  To-morrow  we 
will  ride  to  Rouen  ;  there  all  knightly  sports  shall  be 
held  to  grace  thy  coming  ;  and  by  St.  Michael,  knight- 
saint  of  the  Norman,  nought  less  will  content  me  than  to 
have  thy  great  name  in  the  list  of  my  chosen  chevaliers. 
But  the   night   wears   now,  and   thou   sure   must   needs 


56  HAROLD. 

sleep  ;  "  and,  thus  talking,  the  duke  himself  led  the  way 
to  Harold's  chamber,  and  insisted  on  removing  the  ouche 
from  his  robe  of  state.  As  he  did  so,  he  passed  his 
hand,  as  if  carelessly,  along  the  earl's  right  arm.  "  Ha  ! " 
said  he,  suddenly,  and  in  his  natural  tone  of  voice,  which 
was  sliort  and  quick,  "  these  muscles  have  known  practice  ! 
Dost  think  thou  couldst  bend  ray  bow  1 " 

"Who  could  bend  that  of — Ulysses?"  returned  the 
earl,  fixing  his  deep-blue  eye  upon  the  Norman's. 
William  unconsciously  changed  color,  for  he  felt  that  he 
was  at  that  moment  more  Ulysses  than  Achilles. 


HAKOLD.  57 


CHAPTER   III. 

Side  by  side,  William  and  Harold  entered  the  fair  city  of 
Rouen,  and  there  a  succession  of  the  brilliant  pageants 
and  knightly  entertainments  (comprising  those  "rare 
feats  of  honor,"  expanded,  with  the  following  age,  into 
the  more  gorgeous  display  of  joust  and  tourney)  was 
designed  to  dazzle  the  eyes  and  captivate  the  fancy  of 
the  earl.  But  though  Harold  won,  even  by  the  confes- 
sion of  the  chronicles  most  in  favor  of  the  Norman, 
golden  opinions  in  a  court  more  ready  to  deride  than 
admire  the  Saxon, — though  not  only  the  "strength  of 
his  body,"  and  "  the  boldness  of  his  spirit,"  as  shown  in 
exhibitions  unfamiliar  to  Saxon  warriors,  but  his  "  man- 
ners," his  "eloquence,  intellect,  and  other  good  qualities,"  ^ 
were  loftily  conspicuous  amidst  those  knightly  courtiers, 
—  that  sublimer  part  of  his  character,  which  was  found 
in  its  simple  manhood  and  intense  nationality,  kept  him 
unmoved  and  serene  amidst  all  intended  to  exercise  that 
fatal  spell  which  Normanized  most  of  those  who  came 
within  the  circle  of  Norman  attraction. 

These  festivities  were  relieved  by  pompous  excursions 
and  progresses  from  town  to  town,  and  fort  to  fort, 
throughout  tlie  duchy,  and,  according  to  some  authorities, 
even  to  a  visit  to  Philip,  the  French  king,  at  Compeigne. 
On  the  return  to  Rouen,  Harold,  and  the  six  thegns  of 
his  train,  were  solemnly  admitted  into  that  peculiar  band 
of  warlike  brothers  which  William  had  instituted,  and  to 

1  Ord.  Vital. 


58  HAKOLD. 

which,  following  the  chronicles  of  the  after-eentttry,  w& 
have  given  the  name  of  knights.  The  silver  halJrick  was. 
helted  on,  and  the  lance,  with  its  pointed  banderol,  was 
placed  in  the  hand,  and  the  seven  Saxon  lords  hecame 
Norman  knights. 

The  evening  after  this  ceremonial,  Harold  was  with 
the  duchess  and  her  fair  daughters,  —  all  children.  The 
beauty  of  one  of  the  girls  drew  from  him  those  compli- 
ments so  sweet  to  a  mother's  ear.  Matilda  looked  up 
from  the  broidery  on  which  she  was  engaged,  and  beck- 
oned tO'  her  the  child  thus  praised. 

"  Adeliza,"  she  said,  placing  her  hand  on  the  girl's 
dark  locks,  "  though  we  would  not  that  thou  shonldst 
learn  too  early  how  men's  tongues  ean  gloze  and  Hatter, 
yet  this  noble  guest  hath  so  high  a  repute  for  truth,  that 
thou  mayest  at  least  believe  him  sincere  when  he  says 
thy  face  is  fair.  Think  of  it,  and  with  pride,  my  child  ; 
let  it  kee'p  thee  through  youth  proof  against  the  homag© 
of  meaner  men  ;  and,  peradventure,.  St.  Michael  and  St. 
Valery  may  bestow  on  thee  a  mate  valiant  a,nd  comely 
as  this  noble  lord." 

The  child  blushed  to  her  hrow,  but  answered  with  th© 
quickness  of  a  spoiled  infant,  —  unless,  perhaps,  she  had 
been  previously  tutored  so  to  reply,  — "  Sweet  mother,  I 
will  have  no  mate  and  no  lord  but  Harold  himself  ;  and 
if  he  will  not  have  Adeliza  as  his  wife,  she  will  die  a  nun.'* 

"  Froward  child,  it  is  not  for  thee  to  woo  1 "  said 
Matilda,  smiling.  "Thou  heardest  heif,  noble  Harold: 
what  is  thine  answer"?" 

"  That  she  will  grow  wiser,"  said  the  carl,  laughing,  as 
he  kissed  the  child's  forehead.  "  Fair  damsel,  ere  thou 
art  ripe  for  the  altar,  time  Avill  have  sown  gray  in  these 
locks  ;  and  thou  wouldst  smile  indeed  in  scorn  if  Harold 
then  claimed  thy  troth." 


HAROLD.  59 

"  Not  so,"  said  Matilda,  seriously  ;  "  high-born  damsels 
see  youth  not  in  years  but  in  fame,  —  fame,  which  is 
young  forever  ! " 

Startled  by  the  gravity  with  which  Matilda  spoke,  as 
if  to  give  importance  to  what  had  seemed  a  jest,  the  earl, 
versed  in  courts,  felt  that  a  suare  was  round  him,  and 
replied,  in  a  tone  between  jest  and  earnest,  "  Happy  am 
I  to  wear  on  my  heart  a  charm  proof  against  all  the 
beauty  even  of  this  court." 

Matilda's  face  darkened  ;  and  William  entering  at  that 
time  with  his  usual  abruptness,  lord  and  lady  exchanged 
glances  not  unobserved  by  Harold. 

The  duke,  however,  drew  aside  the  Saxon,  and  saying, 
gayly,  "  We  Normans  are  not  naturally  jealous  ;  but  then, 
till  now,  we  have  not  had  Saxon  gallants  closeted  with 
our  wives  ;  "  added  more  seriously,  "  Harold,  I  have  a 
grace  to  pray  at  thy  hands,  —  come  with  me." 

The  earl  followed  William  into  his  chamber,  which  he 
found  filled  with  chiefs,  in  high  converse  ;  and  William 
then  hastened  to  inform  him  that  he  was  about  to  make  a 
military  expedition  against  the  Bretons  :  and  knowing 
his  peculiar  acquaintance  with  the  warfare,  as  with  the 
language  and  manners,  of  their  kindred  Welsh,  he 
besought  his  aid  in  a  campaign,  which  he  promised  him 
should  be  brief. 

Perhaps  the  earl  was  not,  in  his  own  mind,  averse 
from  returning  William's  display  of  power  by  some  evi- 
dence of  his  own  milittiry  skill,  and  the  valor  of  the 
Saxon  thegns  in  his  train.  There  might  be  prudence  in 
such  exhibition,  and,  at  all  events,  he  could  not  with  a 
good  grace  decline  the  proposal.  He  enchanted  "William, 
therefore,  by  a  simple  acquiescence  ;  and  the  rest  of  the 
evening  —  deep  into  night  —  was  spent  in  examining 
charts  of  the  fort  and  country  intended  to  be  attacked. 


60  HAROLD. 

The  conduct  and  courage  of  Harold  and  his  Saxons  in 
this  expedition  are  recorded  by  the  Norman  chroniclers. 
The  earl's  personal  exertions  saved,  at  the  passage  of 
Coesnon,  a  detachment  of  soldiers,  who  would  otherwise 
have  perished  in  the  quicksands  ;  and  even  the  warlike 
skill  of  William,  in  the  brief  and  brilliant  campaign,  Avas, 
if  not  eclipsed,  certainly  equalled  by  that  of  the  Saxon 
chief. 

While  the  campaign  lasted,  William  and  Harold  had 
but  one  table  and  one  tent.  To  outward  appearance,  the 
familiarity  between  the  two  was  tliat  of  brothers;  in 
reality,  however,  these  two  men,  both  so  able,  —  one  so 
deep  in  his  guile,  the  other  so  wise  in  his  tranquil  caution, 
—  felt  that  a  silent  Avar  between  the  two  for  mastery  was 
working  on,  under  the  guise  of  loving  peace. 

Already  Harold  was  conscious  that  the  politic  motives 
for  his  mission  had  failed  liim  ;  already  he  perceived, 
though  he  scarce  knew  why,  that  William  the  Norman 
was  the  last  man  to  whom  he  could  confide  his  ambition, 
or  trust  for  aid. 

One  day,  as  during  a  short  truce  with  the  defenders  of 
the  place  they  were  besieging,  the  Normans  were  divert- 
ing their  leisure  with  martial  games,  in  which  Taillefer 
shone  pre-eminent ;  while  Harold  and  William  stood 
without  their  tent,  watching  the  animated  field,  the  duke 
abruptly  exclaimed  to  Mallet  de  Graville,  "  Bring  me  my 
bow.     Now,  Harold,  let  me  see  if  thou  canst  bend  it." 

The  bow  was  brought,  and  Saxon  and  Norman  gathered 
round  the  spot. 

"  Fasten  thy  glove  to  yonder  tree.  Mallet,"  said  the 
duke,  taking  that  mighty  bow  in  his  hand,  and  bending 
its  stubborn  yew  into  the  noose  of  the  string  with  prac- 
tised ease. 

Then  he  drew  the  arc  to  his  ear ;  and  the  tree  itself 


HAROLD.  61 

seemed  to  sliake  at  the  shook,  as  the  shaft,  piercing  the 
glove,  lodged  half-way  in  the  trunk. 

"  Such  are  not  our  weapons,"  said  the  earl ;  "  and  ill 
would  it  become  me,  unpractised,  so  to  peril  our  English 
honor,  as  to  strive  against  the  arm  that  could  bend  that 
arc  and  wing  that  arrow.  But  that  I  may  show  these 
Norman  knights  that  at  least  we  have  some  weapon 
wherewith  we  can  parry  shaft  and  smite  assailer,  bring 
me  forth,  Godrith,  my  shield  and  my  Danish  axe." 

Taking  the  shield  and  axe  which  the  Saxon  brought 
to  liim,  Harold  then  stationed  himself  before  the  tree. 

"  Now,  fair  duke,"  said  he,  smiling,  "  choose  thou  thy 
longest  shaft,  bid  thy  ten  doughtiest  archers  take  their 
bows  :  round  this  tree  will  I  move,  and  let  each  shaft  be 
aimed  at  whatever  space  in  my  mailless  body  I  leave 
unguarded  by  my  shield." 

"  No  !  "  said  William,  hastily  ;   "  that  were  murder." 

"  It  is  but  the  common  peril  of  war,"  said  Harold, 
simply ;  and  he  walked  to  the  tree. 

The  blood  mounted  to  William's  brow,  and  the  lion's 
thirst  of  carnage  parched  his  throat. 

*'  An  he  will  have  it  so,"  said  he,  beckoning  to  his 
archers,  "  let  not  Normandy  be  shamed.  Watch  well, 
and  let  every  shaft  go  home ;  avoid  only  the  Ijead  and 
the  heart ;  such  orgulous  vaunting  is  best  cured  by 
blood-letting." 

The  archers  nodded,  and  took  their  post,  each  at  a 
separate  quarter ;  and  deadly,  indeed,  seemed  the  danger 
of  the  earl,  for,  as  he  moved,  though  he  kept  his  back 
guarded  by  the  tree,  some  parts  of  his  form  the  shield 
left  exposed,  and  it  would  have  been  impossible,  in  his 
quick-shifting  movements,  for  the  archers  so  to  aim  as  to 
wound,  but  to  spare  life  ;  yet  the  earl  seemed  to  take  no 
peculiar  care  to   avoid   the  peril ;    lifting   his   bare   head 


62  HAROLD. 

fearlessly  above  the  shield,  and  including  in  one  gaze  of 
his  steadfast  eye,  calmly  bright  even  at  the  distance,  all 
the  shafts  of  the  archers. 

At  one  moment  five  of  the  arrows  hissed  throuoh  the 
air  ;  and  with  such  wonderful  quickness  had  the  shield 
turned  to  each,  that  three  fell  to  the  ground  blunted 
against  it,  and  two  broke  on  its  surface. 

But  William,  waiting  for  the  first  discharge,  and  seeing 
full  mark  at  Harold's  shoulder  as  the  buckler  turned, 
now  sent  forth  his  terrible  shaft.  The  noble  Taillefer, 
with  a  poet's  true  sympathy,  cried,  "  Saxon,  beware  ! " 
but  the  watchful  Saxon  needed  not  the  Avaruing.  As  if 
in  disdain,  Harold  met  not  the  shaft  with  his  shield,  but 
swinging  high  the  mighty  axe  (which  with  most  men 
required  both  arms  to  wield  it),  he  advanced  a  step,  and 
clove  the  rushing  arrow  in  twain  ! 

Before  William's  loud  oatli  of  wrath  and  surprise  left 
his  lips,  the  five  shafts  of  the  remaining  archers  fell  as 
vainly  as  their  predecessors  against  the  nimble  shield. 

Then  advancing,  Harold  said  cheerfullv  :  "  This  is  but 
defence,  fair  duke,  —  and  little  worth  were  the  axe  if  it 
could  not  smite  as  well  as  ward.  Wherefore,  I  pray  you, 
place  upon  yonder  broken  stone  pillar,  which  seems  some 
relic  of  Druid  heathenesse,  such  helm  and  shirt  of  mail, 
as  thou  deemest  most  proof  against  sword  and  pertuizan, 
and  judge  then  if  our  English  axe  can  guard  well  our 
English  land." 

"  If  thy  axe  can  cleave  the  helmet  I  wore  at  Bavent, 
■when  the  Franks  and  their  king  fled  before  me,"  said  tlie 
duke,  grimly,  "  I  shall  hold  Cisesar  in  fault  not  to  have 
invented  a  weapon  so  dread." 

And  striding  back  into  his  pavilion,  he  came  forth  with 
the  helm  and  shirt  of  mail,  which  was  worn  stronger  and 
heavier  by  the  Normans,  as  fighting  usually  on  horseback, 


HAROLD,  63 

than  by  Dane  ami  Saxon,  who,  mainly  fightuig  on  foot, 
could  not  have  endured  so  cumbrous  a  burden  :  and  if 
strong  and  dour  generally  with  the  Norman,  judge  what 
solid  weight  that  mighty  duke  could  endure  !  With  his 
own  hand  William  placed  the  mail  on  the  ruined  Druid 
stone,  and  on  the  mail  the  helm. 

Harold  looked  long  and  gravely  at  the  edge  of  the  axe  ; 
it  was  so  richly  gilt  and  damasquined  that  the  sharpness 
of  its  temper  could  not  well  have  been  divined  under  that 
holiday  glitter.  But  this  axe  had  come  to  him  from 
Canute  the  Great,  who  himself,  unlike  the  Danes,  small 
and  slight,^  had  supplied  his  deficiency  of  muscle  by  the 
finest  dexterity  and  the  most  perfect  weapons.  Famous 
had  been  that  axe  in  the  delicate  hand  of  Canute,  —  how 
much  more  tremendous  in  the  ample  grasp  of  Harold  ! 
Swinging  now  in  both  hands  this  weapon  witli  a  peculiar 
and  rapid  whirl,  which  gave  it  an  inconceivable  impetus, 
the  earl  let  fall  the  crushing  blow  :  at  the  first  stroke,  cut 
right  in  the  centre,  rolled  the  helm,  at  the  second, 
through  all  the  woven  mail  (cleft  asunder  as  if  the  slight- 
est filigree-work  of  the  goldsmith)  shore  the  blade,  and  a 
great  fragment  of  the  stone  itself  came  tumbling  on  the  sod. 

The  jSTormans  stood  aghast,  and  William's  face  was  as 
pale  as  the  shattered  stone.  The  great  duke  felt  even  his 
matchless  dissimulation  fail  him  ;  nor,  unused  to  the 
special  practice  and  craft  which  the  axe  required,  could  he 
have  pretended,  despite  a  physical  strength  superior  even 
to  Harold's,  to  rival  blows  that  seemed  to  him  more  than 
mortal. 

"  Lives  there  any  other  man  in  the  wide  world  whose 
arm  could  have  wrought  that  feat  ]  "  exclaimed  Bruse,  the 
ancestor  of  the  famous  Scot. 

1  Canute  made  his  inferior  strength  and  stature  his  excuse  for 
not  meeting  Edward  Ironsides  in  single  combat. 


64  HAKOLD. 

"Nay,"  said  Harold,  simply,  "at  least  thirty  thousand 
such  men  have  I  left  at  home  !  But  this  was  but  the 
stroke  of  an  idle  vanity,  and  strength  becomes  tenfold  in  a 
good  cause." 

The  duke  heard,  and  fearful  lest  he  should  betray  his 
sense  of  the  latent  meaning  couched  under  his  guest's 
words,  he  hastily  muttered  forth  reluctant  compliment 
and  praise ;  while  Fitzosborue,  De  Bohun,  and  other 
chiefs  more  genuinely  knightly,  gave  way  to  unrestrained 
admiration. 

Then  beckoning  De  Graville  to  follow  him,  the  duke 
strode  off  towards  the  tent  of  his  brother  of  Bayeux, 
who,  though,  except  on  extraordinary  occasions,  he  did  not 
join  in  positive  conflict,  usually  accompanied  William  in 
his  military  excursions,  both  to  bless  the  host,  and  to 
advise  (for  his  martial  science  was  considerable)  the 
council  of  war. 

The  bishop,  who,  despite  the  sanctimony  of  the  court, 
and  his  own  stern  nature,  was  (though  secretly  and  deco- 
rously) a  gallant  of  great  success  in  otiier  fields  than  those 
of  Mars,^  sat  alone  in  his  pavilion,  inditing  an  epistle  to  a 
certain  fair  dame  in  Eouen,  whom  he  had  iinwilliiio-Iv  left 
to  follow  his  brother.  At  the  entrance  of  William,  whose 
morals  in  such  matters  were  pure  and  rigid,  he  swept  the 
letter  into  the  chest  of  relics  which  always  accompanied 
him,  and  rose,  saying  indifferently,  — 

"  A  treatise  on  the  authenticity  of  St.  Thomas's  little 
finger  !     But  what  ails  you  ]  —  j'ou  are  disturbed  !  " 

"  Odo,  Odo,  this  man  baffles  me, — this  man  fools  me; 
I  make   no    ground   with    him.     I    have  spent  —  heaven 

1  Odo's  licentiousness  was,  at  a  later  period,  one  of  the  alleged 
causes  of  his  downfall,  or  rather  against  his  release  from  tlie 
prison  to  which  he  had  been  consigned.  He  had  a  son  named 
John,  who  distinguished  himself  under  Henry  I. — Oru.  Vital, 
lib.  iv. 


HAROLD.  65 

knows  what  I  have  spent,"  said  the  duke,  sighing  with 
penitent  parsimony,  "in  banquets  and  ceremonies  and 
processions ;  to  say  nothing  of  my  bel  manier  of  Yonne, 
and  the  sum  wrung  from  my  coffers  by  that  greedy 
Ponthevin.  All  gone,  all  wasted,  all  melted  like  snow  !  and 
the  Saxon  is  as  Saxon  as  if  he  had  seen  neither  Norman 
splendor,  nor  been  released  from  the  danger  by  Norman 
treasure.  But  by  the  Splendor  Divine,  I  were  fool  indeed 
if  I  suffered  him  to  return  home.  Would  thou  hadst  seen 
the  sorcerer  cleave  my  helmet  and  mail  just  now,  as 
easily  as  if  they  had  been  willow  twigs.  Oh,  Odo,  Odo, 
my  soul  is  troubled,  and  St.  Michael  forsakes  me  !  " 

While  William  ran  on  thus  distractedly,  the  prelate 
lifted  his  eyes  inquiringly  to  De  Graville,  who  now 
stood  within  the  tent,  and  the  knight  briefly  related  the 
recent  trial  of  strength. 

"  I  see  nought  in  this  to  chafe  thee,"  said  Odo  ;  "the 
man  once  thine,  the  stronger  the  vassal,  the  more  powerful 
the  lord." 

"  But  he  is  not  mine ;  I  have  sounded  him  as  far  as  I 
dare  go.  Matilda  hath  almost  openly  offered  him  my 
fairest  child  as  his  wife.  Nothing  dazzles,  nothing  moves 
him.  Thinkest  thou  I  care  for  his  strong  arm  1  Tut,  no  ; 
I  chafe  at  the  proud  heart  that  set  the  arm  in  motion,  the 
proud  meaning  his  words  symbolled  out,  *  So  will  English 
strength  guard  English  land  from  the  Norman,  —  so  axe 
and  shield  will  defy  your  mail  and  your  shafts.'  But  let 
him  beware  !  "  growled  the  duke,  fiercely,  "  or  —  " 

"May  I  speak,"  interrupted  De  Graville,  "and  suggest 
a  counsel  ?  " 

"  Speak  out,  in  God's  name  !  "  cried  the  duke. 

"Then  I  should  say,  with  submission,  that  the  way  to 
tame  a  lion  is  not  by  gorging  him,  but  daunting.  Bold  is 
the  lion  against  open  foes  ;  but  a  lion  in  the  toils  loses  his 

VOL.  II.  —  5 


66  HAKOLD. 

nature.     Just  now  my  lord  said  that  Harold  should  not 
return  to  his  native  land  —  " 

"  Nor  shall  he,  but  as  my  sworn  man  !  "  exclaimed  the 
duke. 

"  And  if  you  now  put  to  him  that  choice,  think  yon  it 
will  favor  your  views  1  Will  he  not  reject  your  proffers, 
and  with  hot  scorn  1  " 

"  Scorn  !  darest  thou  that  word  to  me  1  "  cried  the  duke. 
"  Scorn  !  have  I  no  headsman  whose  axe  is  as  sharp  as 
Harold's  1  and  the  neck  of  a  captive  is  not  sheathed  in  my 
Norman  mail." 

"  Pardon,  pardon,  my  liege,"  said  Mallet,  "with  spirit ; 
*'  but  to  save  my  chief  from  a  hasty  action  that  might 
bring  long  remorse,  I  spoke  thus  boldly.  Give  the  earl  at 
least  fair  warning  :  —  a  prison,  or  fealty  to  thee,  that  is  the 
choice  before  him  !  —  let  him  know  it ;  let  him  see  that  thy 
dungeons  are  dark,  and  tliy  walls  impassable.  Threaten 
not  his  life,  —  brave  men  care  not  for  that !  —  threaten 
thyself  nought,  but  let  others  work  upon  him  with  fear  of 
his  freedom.  I  know  well  these  Saxish  men ;  I  know 
well  Harold  :  freedom  is  their  passion,  —  they  fire  cowards 
when  threatened  with  the  doom  of  four  walls." 

"I  conceive  thee,  wise  son,"  exclaimed  Odo. 

"  Ha !  "  said  the  duke,  slowly ;  "  and  yet  it  was  to 
prevent  such  suspicions  that  I  took  care,  after  the  first 
meeting,  to  separate  him  from  Haco  and  Wolnoth,  for  they 
must  have  learned  much  in  Norman  gossip  ill  to  repeat  to 
the  Saxon." 

"  Wolnoth  is  almost  wholly  Norman,"  said  the  bishop, 
smiling;  "  Wolnoth  is  bound  par  amours  to  a  certain  fair 
Norman  dame ;  and,  I  trow  well,  prefers  her  charms  here 

^  William  of  Poitiers,  the  coutemporary  Norman  chronicler,  says 
of  Harold,  that  he  was  a  man  to  whom  imprisonment  was  more 
odious  than  shipwreck. 


HAROLD.  67 

to  the  thought  of  his  return.  But  Haco,  as  thou  knowest, 
is  sullen  aud  watchful." 

"  So  much  the  better  companion  for  Harold  now,"  said 
De  Graville. 

"  I  am  fated  ever  to  plot  and  to  scheme  ! "  said  the 
duke,  groaning,  as  if  he  had  been  the  simplest  of  men  ; 
"  but,  nathless,  I  love  the  stout  earl,  and  I  mean  all  for 
his  own  good,  —  that  is,  compatibly  with  my  rights  and 
claims  to  the  heritage  of  Edward  my  cousin." 

"  Of  course,"  said  the  bishop. 


68  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  snares  now  spread  for  Harold  were  in  pursuance  of 
the  policy  thus  resolved  on.  The  camp  soon  afterwards 
broke  up,  and  tlie  troops  took  their  way  to  Bayeux. 
William,  without  greatly  altering  his  manner  towanis  the 
earl,  evaded  markedly  (or  as  markedly  replied  not  to) 
Harold's  plain  declarations,  that  his  presence  was  required 
in  England,  and  that  he  could  no  longer  defer  his  depart- 
ure ;  while  under  pretence  of  being  busied  with  affairs,  he 
absented  himself  much  from  the  earl's  company,  or  refrained 
from  seeing  him  alone,  and  suffered  Mallet  de  Graville,  and 
Odo  the  bishop,  to  supply  his  place  with  Harold.  The 
earl's  suspicions  now  became  thoroughly  aroused,  and  these 
were  fed  both  by  the  hints,  kindly  meant,  of  De  Graville, 
and  the  less  covert  discourse  of  the  prelate  ;  while  Mallet 
let  drop,  as  in  gossiping  illustration  of  William's  herce  and 
vindictive  nature,  many  anecdotes  of  that  cruelty  which 
really  stained  the  Norman's  character  ;  Odo,  more  bluntly, 
appeared  to  take  it  for  granted  that  Harold's  sojourn  in 
the  land  would  be  long, 

"  You  will  have  time,"  said  he,  one  day,  as  they  rode 
together,  "  to  assist  me,  I  trust,  in  learning  the  language 
of  our  forefithers.  Danish  is  still  spoken  much  at 
Bayeux,  the  sole  place  in  Neustria  ^  where  the  old  tongue 

1  In  the  environs  of  Bayeux  still  may  perhaps  linger  the  sole 
remains  of  the  Scandinavian  Normans,  apart  from  the  gentry.  For 
centuries  the  inhabitants  of  Ba^'eiix  and  its  vicinity  were  a  class 
distinct  from  the  Franco-Normans,  or  the  rest  of  Neustria ,  they 


HAROLD.  69 

and  customs  still  linger ;  and  it  AA^ould  serve  my  pastoral 
ministry  to  receive  your  lessons ;  in  a  year  or  so  I  might 
hope  so  to  profit  by  them  as  to  discourse  freely  with  the 
less  Frankish  part  of  my  flock." 

"  Surely,  Lord  Bishop,  you  jest,"  said  Harold,  seri- 
ously ;  "  you  know  well  that  within  a  week,  at  farthest,  I 
must  sail  back  for  England  with  my  young  kinsmen." 

The  prelate  laughed. 

"  I  advise  you,  dear  count  and  son,  to  be  cautious  how 
you  speak  so  plainly  to  William.  I  perceive  that  you 
have  already  ruffled  him  by  such  indiscreet  remarks ;  and 
you  must  have  seen  eno'  of  the  duke  to  know  that,  when 
his  ire  is  up,  his  answers  are  short,  but  his  arms  are  long." 

"You  most  grievously  wrong  Duke  AVilliara,"  cried 
Harold,  indignantly,  "  to  suppose,  merely  in  that  playful 
humor,  for  which  ye  Normans  are  famous,  that  he  could 
lay  force  on  his  confiding  guest." 

*'  No,  not  a  confiding  guest,  —  a  ransomed  captive. 
Surely  my  brother  will  deem  tliat  he  has  purchased  of 
Count  Guy  his  rights  over  his  illustrious  prisoner.  But 
courage  !  The  Norman  court  is  not  the  Ponthevin  dun- 
geon ;  and  your  chains,  at  least,  are  roses." 

Tlie  reply  of  wrath  and  defiance  that  rose  to  Harold's  lip 
was  checked  by  a  sign  horn  De  Graville,  who  raised  his 
finger  to  his  lip  with  a  face  expressive  of  caution  and 
alarm,  and,  some  little  time  after  as  tliey  halted  to  water 
their  horses,  De  Graville  came  up  to  him  and  said  in  a 
low  voice,  and  in  Saxon,  — 

"  Beware  how  you  speak  too  frankly  to  Odo.  What  is 
said  to  him  is  said  to  William ;  and  the  duke,  at  times,  so 
acts  on  the  spur  of  the  moment  that  —  but  let  me  not 
wrong  him,  or  needlessly  alarm  you." 

submitted  with  great  reluctance  to  the  ducal  authority,  and  re- 
tained tlieir  old  heatheu  cry  of  "  Thor-aide  !  "  instead  of  "  Dieu- 
aide ! " 


70  HAROLD. 

"  Sire  de  Graville,"  said  Harold,  "  this  is  not  the  first 
time  that  the  Prelate  of  Bayeux  hath  hinted  at  compulsion, 
nor  that  you  (no  doubt  kindly)  have  warned  me  of 
pui-[)ose  hostile  or  fraudfal.  As  plain  man  to  plain  man, 
1  ask  you,  on  your  knightly  honor,  to  tell  me  if  you  know 
aught  to  make  you  believe  that  William  the  Duke  will, 
under  any  pretext,  detain  me  here  a  captive." 

jN^ow,  though  Mallet  de  Graville  had  lent  himself  to  the 
service  of  an  ignoble  craft,  he  justified  it  by  a  better 
reason  than  complaisance  to  his  lords ;  for,  knowing 
William  well,  his  hasty  ire  and  his  relentless  ambition,  he 
was  really  alai^med  for  Harold's  safety.  And,  as  the 
reader  may  have  noted,  in  suggesting  that  policy  of  intimi- 
dation, the  knight  had  designed  to  give  the  earl  at  least 
the  benefit  of  forewarning.  So,  thus  adjured,  De  Graville 
replied  sincerely,  — 

"  Earl  Harold,  on  my  honor  as  your  brother  in  knight- 
hood, I  answer  your  plain  question.  I  have  cause  to 
believe  and  to  know  that  William  will  not  suffer  you  to 
depart,  unless  fully  satisfied  on  certain  points,  which  he 
himself  will  doubtless  ere  long  make  clear  to  you." 

"  And  if  I  insist  on  my  departure,  not  so  satisfying 
him  1 " 

"  Every  castle  on  our  road  hath  a  dungeon  as  deep  as 
Count  Guy's ;  but  where  another  William  to  deliver  you 
from  William  ? " 

"  Over  yon  seas,  a  prince  mightier  than  William,  and 
men  as  resolute,  at  least,  as  your  Normans." 

"  Cher  et  puissant,  my  Lord  Earl,"  answered  De 
Graville,  "  these  are  brave  words,  but  of  no  weight  in  the 
ear  of  a  schemer  so  deep  as  the  duke.  Think  you  really 
that  King  Edward  (pardon  my  bluntness)  would  rouse 
himself  from  his  apathy  to  do  more  in  your  behalf  than 
he  has  done  in  your  kinsmen's,  —  remonstrate  and  preach  ] 


HAROLD.  71 

Are  you  even  sure  that  on  the  representation  of  a  man  he 
hath  so  loved  as  William,  he  will  not  be  content  to  rid  his 
throne  of  so  formidable  a  subject  1  You  speak  of  the 
English  people ;  doubtless  you  are  popular  and  beloved  ; 
but  it  is  the  habit  of  no  people,  least  of  all  your  own,  to 
stir  actively  and  in  concert  without  leaders.  The  duke 
knows  the  factions  of  England  as  well  as  you  do.  Re- 
member how  closely  he  is  connected  with  Tostig,  your 
ambitious  brother.  Have  you  no  fear  that  Tostig  him- 
self, earl  of  the  most  warlike  part  of  the  kingdom,  will 
not  only  do  his  best  to  check  the  popular  feeling  in  your 
favor,  but  foment  every  intrigue  to  detain  you  here,  and 
leave  himself  the  first  noble  in  the  land  ?  As  for  other 
leaders,  save  Gurth  (who  is  but  your  own  vice-earl),  who 
is  there  that  will  not  rejoice  at  the  absence  of  Haruld  ] 
You  have  made  foes  of  the  only  family  that  approaches 
the  power  of  your  own,  —  the  heirs  of  Leofric  and  Algar. 
Your  strong  hand  removed  from  the  reins  of  the  empire, 
tumults  and  dissensions  ere  long  will  break  forth  that  will 
distract  men's  minds  from  an  absent  captive,  and  centre 
them  on  the  safety  of  their  own  hearths,  or  the  advance- 
ment of  their  own  interests.  You  see  that  I  know  some- 
thing of  the  state  of  your  native  land  ;  but  deem  not  my 
own  observation,  though  not  idle,  sufficed  to  bestow  that 
knowledge.  I  learn  it  more  from  William's  discourses,  — 
William,  who  from  Flanders,  from  Boulogne,  from  England 
itself,  by  a  thousand  channels,  hears  all  that  passes  be- 
tween the  cliffs  of  Dover  and  the  Marches  of  Scotland." 

Harold  paused  long  before  he  replied,  for  his  mind  was 
now  tlioroughly  awakened  to  his  danger ;  and  while  recog- 
nizing the  wisdom  and  intimate  acquaintance  of  affairs 
with  which  De  Graville  spoke,  he  was  also  rapidly  revolv- 
ing the  best  course  for  himself  to  pursue  in  such  extremes. 
At  length  he  said,  — 


72  HAROLD. 

"I  pass  by  your  remarks  on  the  state  of  England  with 
but  one  comment.  You  underrate  Gurth,  my  brother, 
when  you  speak  of  him  but  as  the  vice-earl  of  Harold. 
You  underrate  one,  who  needs  but  an  object  to  excel  in 
arms  and  in  council  my  fatlier  Godwin  himself  That 
object  a  brother's  wrongs  would  create  from  a  brother's 
love,  and  three  hundred  ships  would  sail  up  the  Seine  to 
demand  your  captive,  manned  by  warriors  as  hardy  as 
those  who  wrested  Neustria  from  King  Charles." 

"Granted,"  said  De  Graville.  "Rut  William,  who 
could  cut  off  the  hands  and  feet  of  his  own  subjects  for 
an  idle  jest  on  his  birth,  could  as  easily  put  out  the  eyes 
of  a  captive  foe.  And  of  what  worth  are  the  a})Iest  brain 
and  the  stoutest  arm  when  the  man  is  dependent  on 
anotlier  for  very  sight !  " 

Harold  involuntarily  shuddered  ;  but  recovering  him- 
self on  the  instant,  he  replied,  with  a  smile,  — 

"  Thou  makest  thy  duke  a  butcher,  more  fell  than  his 
ancestor  Eolfganger.  But  thou  saidst  he  needed  but  to 
be  satisfied  on  certain  points.     What  are  they  1 " 

"  Ah,  that  thou  must  divine,  or  he  unfold.  But  see, 
William  himself  approaches  yon." 

And  here  the  duke,  who  had  been  till  then  in  the  rear, 
spurred  np  with  courteous  excuses  to  Harold  for  his  long 
defection  from  his  side  ;  and,  as  they  resumed  their  way, 
talked  with  all  his  former  frankness  and  gayety. 

"  By  the  way,  dear  brother  in  arms,"  said  he,  "  I  have 
provided  thee  this  evening  with  comrades  more  Avelcome, 
I  fear,  than  myself,  —  Haco  and  Wolnoth.  That  last  is 
a  youth  whom  I  love  dearly  ;  the  first  is  unsocial  eno', 
and  methinks  would  make  a  better  hermit  than  soldier. 
But,  by  St.  Valery,  I  forgot  to  tell  thee  that  an  envoy 
from  Flanders  to-day,  amongst  other  news,  brought  me 
some  that  may  interest  thee.     There  is  a  strong  commo- 


HAEOLD.  73 

tion  in  thy  brother  Tostig's  Northumhrian  earldom,  and 
the  rumor  runs  that  his  fierce  vassals  will  drive  him  forth 
and  select  some  other  lord  ;  talk  was  of  the  sons  of  Algar, 
—  so  I  think  ye  called  the  stout  dead  earl.  This  looks 
grave,  for  my  dear  cousin  Edward's  health  is  fiiiling  fast. 
May  the  saints  spare  him  long  from  their  rest  !  " 

"These  are  indeed  ill  tidings,"  said  the  earl;  "and  I 
trust  that  they  suffice  to  plead  at  once  my  excuse  fur 
urging  my  immediate  departure.  Grateful  I  am  for  thy 
most  gracious  hostship,  and  thy  just  and  generous  inter- 
cession with  thy  liegeman^'  (Harold  dwelt  emphatically 
on  the  last  word)  "  for  my  release  from  a  capture  dis- 
graceful to  all  Christendom.  Tlie  ransom  so  nobly  paid 
for  me  I  will  not  insult  thee,  dear  my  lord,  by  affecting  to 
repay ;  but  such  gifts  as  our  cheapmen  hold  most  rare, 
perchance  thy  lady  and  thy  fair  children  will  deign  to 
receive  at  my  hands.  Of  these  hereafter.  Now  may  I 
ask  but  a  vessel  from  tliy  nearest   port  1 " 

"  We  will  talk  of  this,  dear  guest  and  brother  knight, 
on  some  later  occasion.  Lo,  yon  castle,  —  ye  have  no 
such  in  England,     See  its  vawmures  and  fosses  ! " 

"A  noble  pile,"  answered  Harold.  "But  pardon  me 
that  I  press  for  —  " 

"  Ye  have  no  such  strongholds,  I  say,  in  England," 
interrupted  the  duke,  petulantly, 

"  Nay,"  replied  the  Englishman,  "  we  have  two  strong- 
holds far  larger  than  that,  —  Salisbury  Plain  and  New- 
market Heath  !  ^  —  strongholds  that  will  contain  fifty 
thousand  men  who  need  no  walls  but  their  shields. 
Count  William,  England's  ramparts  are  her  men,  and  her 
strongest  castles  are  her  widest  plains." 

1  Similar  was  the  answer  of  Goodyn  the  hishop  of  'Winchester, 
ambassador  from  Plenry  VIII.  to  the  French  king.  To  this  day  the 
English  entertain  the  same  notion  of  forts  as  Harold  and  Goodyn. 


74  HAROLD. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  duke,  biting  his  lip,  "  ah,  so  be  it,  — 

but  to  return  :  in  that  castle,  mark  it  well,  the  dukes  of 
Normandy  hold  their  prisoners  of  state ;  "  and  then  he 
added  with  a  laugh  :  "  but  we  hold  you,  noble  captive,  in 
a  prison  more  strong,  —  our  love  and  our  heart." 

As  he  spoke,  he  turned  his  eye  full  upon  Harold,  and 
the  gaze  of  the  two  encountered :  that  of  the  duke  was 
brilliant,  but  stern  and  sinister  ;  that  of  Harold,  steadfast 
and  reproachful.  As  if  by  a  spell,  the  eye  of  each  rested 
long  on  that  of  the  other,  —  as  the  eyes  of  two  lords  of 
the  forest,  ere  the  rush  and  the  spring. 

William  was  the  first  to  withdraw  his  gaze,  and  as  he 
did  so,  his  lip  quivered  and  his  brow  knit.  Then,  wav- 
ing his  hand  for  some  of  the  lords  behind  to  join  him  and 
the  earl,  he  spurred  his  steed,  and  all  further  private  con- 
versation was  suspended.  The  train  pulled  not  bridle 
before  they  reached  a  monastery,  at  which  they  rested  for 
the  night. 


HAKOLD.  75 


CHAPTER  V. 

On  entering  the  chamber  set  apart  for  him  in  the  convent, 
Harold  found  Haco  and  Wolnoth  already  awaiting  him  ; 
and  a  wound  he  had  received  in  the  last  skirmish  against 
the  Bretons  having  broken  out  afresli  on  the  road,  allowed 
him  an  excuse  to  spend  the  rest  of  the  evening  alone  with 
his  kinsmen. 

On  conversing  with  them,  —  now  at  length,  and  un- 
restrainedly, —  Harold  saw  everything  to  increase  his 
alarm ;  for  even  Wolnoth,  when  closely  pressed,  could  not 
but  give  evidence  of  the  unscrupulous  astuteness  with 
which,  despite  all  the  boasted  honor  of  chivalry,  the 
duke's  character  was  stained.  For,  indeed,  in  his  excuse 
it  must  be  said,  that  from  the  age  of  eight  exposed  to  the 
snares  of  his  own  kinsmen,  and  more  often  saved  by  craft 
than  by  strength,  William  had  been  taught  betimes  to 
justify  dissimulation,  and  confound  wisdom  with  guile. 
Harold  now  bitterly  recalled  the  parting  words  of 
Edward,  and  recognized  their  justice,  though  as  yet  he 
did  not  see  all  that  they  portended.  Fevered  and  dis- 
quieted yet  more  by  the  news  from  England,  and  conscious 
that  not  only  the  power  of  his  house  and  the  foundations 
of  his  aspiring  hopes,  but  the  very  weal  and  safety  of  the 
land,  were  daily  imperilled  by  his  continued  absence,  a 
vague  and  unspeakable  terror  for  the  first  time  in  his  life 
preyed  on  his  bold  heart,  —  a  terror  like  that  of  supersti- 
tion ;  for,  like  superstition,  it  was  of  the  Unknown  :  there 
was  everything  to  shun,  yet  no  substance  to  grapple  with. 


76  HAKOLD. 

He  wlio  could  have  smiled  at  the  brief  pangs  of  death, 
shrunk  from  the  thought  of  the  perpetual  prison ;  he 
whose  spirit  rose  elastic  to  every  storm  of  life,  and  exulted 
in  the  air  of  action,  stood  appalled  at  the  fear  of  blindness  : 
blindness  in  the  midst  of  a  career  so  grand,  blindness  in 
the  midst  of  his  pathway  to  a  thi-one,  blindness,  that  curse 
which  palsies  the  strong  and  enslaves  the  free,  and  leaves 
the  whole  man  defenceless,  —  defenceless  in  an  Age  of 
Iron. 

What,  too,  were  those  mysterious  points  on  which  he 
was  to  satisfy  the  duke  %  He  sounded  his  young  kins- 
men ;  but  Wolnoth  evidently  knew  nothing ;  Haco's  eye 
showed  intelligence,  but  by  his  looks  and  gestures  he 
seemed  to  signify  that  what  he  knew  he  would  only  dis- 
close to  Harold.  Fatigued  not  more  with  his  emotions 
than  with  that  exertion  to  conceal  them  so  peculiar  to  the 
English  character  (proud  virtue  of  manhood,  so  little 
appreciated  and  so  rarely  understood !),  he  at  length 
kissed  Wolnoth,  and  dismissed  him,  yawning,  to  his  rest. 
Haco,  lingering,  closed  the  door,  and  looked  long  and 
mournfully  at  the  earl. 

"  Noble  kinsman,"  said  the  young  son  of  Sweyn,  "  I 
foresaw  from  the  first  that  as  our  fate  will  be  tliine,  only 
round  thee  will  be  wall  and  fosse  ;  unless,  indeed,  thou 
wilt  lay  aside  thine  own  nature  — it  will  give  thee  no 
armor  here  —  and  assume  that  which  —  " 

"  Ho ! "  interrupted  the  earl,  shaking  with  repressed 
passion,  "  I  see  already  all  the  foul  fraud  and  treason  to 
guest  and  noble  that  surround  me  !  But  if  the  duke  dare 
such  shame,  he  shall  do  so  in  the  eyes  of  day.  I  will 
hail  the  first  boat  I  see  on  his  river  or  his  sea-coast ;  and 
woe  to  those  who  lay  hand  on  this  arm  to  detain  me  !  " 

Haco  lifted  his  ominous  eyes  to  Harold's,  and  there 
was  something  in  their  cold  and   unimpassioned  expres- 


HAP.OLD.  77 

sion  which  seemed  to  repel  all  enthusiasm,  and  to  deaden 
all  courage. 

"Harold,"  said  he,  "  if  but  for  one  such  moment  thou 
obey  est  the  impulse  of  thy  manly  pride  or  thy  just  resent- 
ment, thou  art  lost  forever ,  one  show  of  violence,  one 
word  of  affront,  and  thou  givest  the  duke  the  excuse  he 
thirsts  for.  Escape  !  It  is  impossible.  For  the  last  five 
years  I  have  pondered  night  and  day  the  means  of  flight ; 
for  I  deem  that  my  hostageship,  by  right,  is  long  since 
over ;  and  no  means  have  I  seen  or  found.  Si:)ies  dog 
my  every  step,  as  spies,  no  doubt,  dog  thine." 

"  Ha !  it  is  true,"  said  Harold  ;  "  never  once  have  I 
wandered  three  paces  from  the  camp  or  the  troop,  but, 
under  some  pretext,  I  have  been  followed  by  knight  or 
courtier.  God  and  our  Lady  help  me,  if  but  for  England's 
sake !  But  what  counsellest  thou  1  Boy,  teach  nie  ; 
thou  hast  been  reared  in  this  air  of  wile  :  to  me  it  is 
strange,  and  I  am  as  a  wild  beast  encompassed  by  a  circle 
of  fire." 

"  Then,"  answered  Haco,  "  meet  craft  by  craft,  smile 
by  smile.  Feel  that  thou  art  under  compulsion,  and 
act,  —  as  the  Church  itself  pardons  men  for  acting  so 
compelled." 

Harold  started,  and  the  blush  spread  red  over  his 
cheeks. 

Haco  continued  :  — 

"  Once  in  prison,  and  thou  art  lost  evermore  to  the 
sight  of  men.  William  would  not  then  dare  to  release 
thee,  —  unless,  indeed,  he  first  rendered  thee  powerless  to 
avenge.  Though  I  will  not  malign  him,  and  say  that  he 
himself  is  capable  of  secret  murder,  yet  he  has  ever  those 
about  him  who  are.  He  drops  in  his  wrath  some  hasty 
"word  ;  it  is  seized  by  ready  and  ruthless  tools.  The  great 
Count  of  Bretagne  was  in  his  way  :  William  feared  him 


78  HAROLD. 

as  he  fears  thee  ;  and  in  his  own  court,  and  amongst  his 
own  men,  the  great  Count  of  Bretagne  died  by  poison. 
For  thy  doom,  open  or  secret,  William,  however,  could 
find  ample  excuse." 

"  How,  boy  ?  What  charge  can  the  i^orman  bring 
against  a  free  Englishman  %  " 

"  His  kinsman  Alfred,"  answered  Haco,  "was  blinded, 
tortured,  and  murdered  ;  and  in  the  court  of  Eouen  Lliey 
say  these  deeds  were  done  by  Godwin  tliy  father.  The 
Normans  who  escorted  Alfred  were  decimated  in  cold 
blood ;  again,  they  say  Godwin  tliy  father  slaughtered 
them." 

"  It  is  hell's  own  lie  !  "  cried  Harold,  "  and  so  have  I 
proved  already  to  the  duke." 

"  Proved  %  No  !  The  lamb  does  not  prove  the  cause 
which  is  prejudged  by  the  wolf.  Often  and  often  have 
I  hearJ  the  Normans  speak  of  tliose  deeds,  and  cry  that 
vengeance  yet  shall  await  them.  It  is  but  to  renew  the 
old  accusation,  —  to  say  Godwin's  sudden  death  was 
God's  proof  of  his  crime,  —  and  even  Edward  himself 
would  forgive  the  duke  for  thy  bloody  death.  But  grant 
the  best ;  grant  that  the  more  lenient  doom  were  but  the 
prison ;  grant  that  Edward  and  the  English  invaded 
Normandy  to  enforce  thy  freedom,  —  knowest  thou  what 
William  hath  ere  now  done  with  hostages  1  He  hath  put 
them  in  the  van  of  his  army,  and  seared  out  their  eyes  in 
tlie  siglit  of  both  hosts.  Deemest  tliou  he  would  be  more 
gentle  to  us  and  to  thee]  Such  are  thy  dangers.  Be 
bold  and  frank,  —  and  thou  canst  not  escape  them  ;  Ije 
wary  and  wise,  promise  and  feign,  and  they  are  baffled  : 
cover  thy  lion  heart  with  the  fox's  hide  until  thou  art 
free  from  the  toils." 

"  Leave  me,  leave  me,"  said  Harold,  hastily.  "  Yet, 
hold  !     Thou  didst  seem  to  understand  me  when  I  hinted 


HAKOLD.  79 

of  —  in  a  word,  what  is  the  object  William  would  gain 
from  me  1  " 

Haco  looked  round ;  again  went  to  the  door  ;  again 
opened  and  closed  it,  —  approached,  and  whispered, 
"  The  crown  of  England  !  " 

The  earl  bounded,  as  if  shot  to  the  heart  ;  then  again 
he  cried,  "  Leave  me  !  I  must  be  alone,  —  alone  now. 
Go  !  go  1 " 


80  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Only  in  solitude  could  that  strong  man  give  way  to  his 
emotions  ;  and  at  first  they  rushed  forth  so  confused  and 
stormy,  so  hurtling  one  the  other,  that  hours  elapsed 
before  he  could  serenely  face  the  terrible  crisis  of  his 
position. 

The  great  historian  of  Italy  has  said,  that  whenever 
tlie  simple  and  truthful  German  came  amongst  the  plot- 
ting and  artful  Italians,  and  experienced  their  duplicity 
and  craft,  he  straightway  became  more  false  and  subtle 
than  the  Italiaiis  themselves  :  to  his  own  countrymen, 
indeed,  he  continued  to  retain  liis  characteristic  sincerity 
and  good  faith ;  but,  once  duped  and  tricked  by  the 
southern  schemers,  as  if  with  a  fiei'ce  scorn,  he  rejected 
trotli  with  the  truthless  ;  he  exulted  in  mastering  them 
in  their  own  wily  statesmanship  ;  and  if  reproached  for 
insincerity,  retorted  with  naive  wonder,  "  Ye  Italians,  and 
complain  of  insincerity  !  How  otherwise  can  one  deal  with 
you,  —  how  be  safe  amongst  you  1 " 

Somewhat  of  this  revolution  of  all  the  natural  elements 
of  his  character  took  place  in  Harold's  mind  that  stormy 
and  solitary  night.  In  the  transport  of  his  indignation, 
he  resolved  not  doltishly  to  be  thus  outwitted  to  his  ruin. 
The  perfidious  host  had  deprived  himself  of  that  privi- 
lege of  Truth,  —  the  large  and  heavenly  security  of  man  ; 
it  was  but  a  struggle  of  wit  against  wit,  snare  against 
snare.  The  state  and  law  of  warfare  had  started  up  in 
the  lap  of  fraudful  peace  ;  and  ambush  must  be  met  by 
ambush,  plot  by  plot. 


HAROLD.  81 

Such  was  the  nature  of  the  self-excuses  by  which  the 
Saxon  defeuded  bis  resolves,  and  they  appeared  to  him 
more  sanctioned  by  the  stake  which  depended  on  success, 
—  a  stake  which  his  undying  patriotism  allowed  to  be 
far  more  vast  than  his  individual  ambition.  Nothing  was 
more  clear  than  tliat,  if  lie  were  detained  in  a  Norman 
prison  at  the  time  of  King  Edward's  death,  the  sole 
obstacle  to  William's  design  on  the  English  throne  would 
be  removed.  In  the  interim,  the  duke's  intrigues  would 
again  surround  the  infirm  king  with  Norman  influences  ; 
and  in  the  absence  both  of  any  legitimate  heir  to  the 
throne  capable  of  commanding  the  trust  of  the  people,  and 
of  his  own  preponderating  ascendancy  both  in  the  Witan 
and  the  armed  militia  of  the  nation,  what  could  arrest 
the  designs  of  the  grasping  duke  1  Thus  his  own  liberty 
was  indissolubly  connected  with  that  of  his  country ;  — 
and  for  that  great  end,  the  safety  of  England,  all  means 
grew  holy. 

When  the  next  morning  he  joined  the  cavalcade, 
it  was  only  by  his  extreme  paleness  that  the  struggle 
and  agony  of  the  past  night  could  be  traced,  and  he 
answered  with  correspondent  cheerfulness  William's 
cordial  greetings. 

As  they  rode  together  —  still  accompanied  by  several 
knicrhts,  and  the  discourse  was  thus  general  —  the  fea- 
tures  of  the  country  suggested  the  theme  of  the  talk.  For, 
now  in  the  heart  of  Normandy,  but  in  rural  districts 
remote  from  the  great  towns,  nothing  could  be  more  waste 
and  neglected  than  the  face  of  the  land.  Miserable  ami 
sordid  to  the  last  degree  were  the  huts  of  the  serfs  ;  and 
when  these  last  met  them  on  their  way,  lialf-naked 
and  hunger-worn,  there  was  a  wild  gleam  of  hate  and  dis- 
content in  their  eyes,  as  they  louted  low  to  the  Norman 
riders,  and    heard    the    bitter  and    scorriful    taunts  with 

VOL.  u.  —  6 


82  HAROLD, 

which  they  were  addressed  ;  for  the  Norman  and  the 
Frank  had  more  than  inditference  for  the  peasants  of  their 
land  ;  they  literally  both  despised  and  abhorred  them,  as 
of  different  race  from  the  conqnerors.  The  A^orman  set- 
tlement especially  was  so  recent  in  the  land,  that  none  of 
that  amalmimation  between  class  and  class  which  centuries 
had  created  in  England,  existed  there ;  though  in  England, 
the  theowe  was  whoP.y  a  slave,  and  the  ceorl  in  a  politi- 
cal servitude  to  his  lord,  yet  public  opinion,  more  mild, 
than  law,  preserved  the  thraldom  from  wanton  aggrava- 
tion ;  and  slavery  was  felt  to  be  wrong  and  unchristian. 
The  Saxon  Church  —  not  the  less,  perhaps,  for  its  very 
ignorance  —  sympathized  more  with  the  subject  popula- 
tion, and  was  more  associated  with  it,  than  the  compara- 
tively learned  and  haughty  ecclesiastics  of  the  Continent, 
who  held  aloof  from  the  unpolished  vulgar.  The  Saxon 
Church  invariably  set  the  example  of  freeing  the  theowe 
and  emancipating  the  ceorl,  and  taught  that  such  acts  were 
to  the  salvation  of  the  soul.  The  rude  and  homely  manner 
in  which  the  greater  part  of  the  Saxon  thegns  lived, — 
dependent  solely  for  their  subsistence  on  their  herds  and 
agricultural  produce,  and  therefore  on  the  labor  of  their 
pea.sants,  —  not  only  made  the  distinctions  of  rank  less 
hai'sh  and  visible,  but  rendered  it  the  interest  of  the 
lords  to  feed  and  clothe  well  their  dependents.  All  our 
records  of  the  customs  of  the  Saxons  prove  the  ample  sus- 
tenance given  to  the  poor,  and  a  general  care  for  their  lives 
and  rights,  wliich,  compared  with  the  Frank  laws,  may  be 
called  enlightened  and  humane.  And  above  all,  the  low- 
est serf  ever  had  the  great  hope  both  of  freedom  and  of 
promotion  ;  but  the  beast  of  the  field  was  holier  in  the 
eyes  of  the  Norman  than  the  wretched  villein.^     We  have 

1  See  Mr.  Wright's  very  interesting  article  on  the  "  Condition 
of  the  Engli.sh  Peasantry,"  &c.,  "  Archreologia,"  vol.  xxx.  pp.  205- 


HAROLD.  83 

likened  tlie  Korman  to  the  Spartan,  and,  most  of  all,  he 
was  like  him  in  his  scorn  of  the  helot. 

Thus  embruted  and  degraded,  deriving  little  from 
religion  itself  except  its  terrors,  the  general  habits  of  the 
peasants  on  the  continent  of  France  were  against  the  very 
basis  of  Christiauitj^, — marriage.  They  lived  together 
for  the  most  part  without  that  tie,  and  hence  the  common 
name,  with  which  they  were  called  by  their  masters,  lay 
and  clerical,  was  the  coarsest  word  contempt  can  apply  to 
the  sons  of  women. 

"The  hounds  glare  at  us,"  said  Odo,  as  a  drove  of  these 
miserable  serfs  passed  along.  "They  need  ever  the  lash 
to  teach  them  to  know  the  master.  Are  they  thus  muti' 
nous  and  surly  in  England,  Lord  Harold  ? " 

"  No  ;  but  there  our  meanest  theowes  are  not  seen  so 
clad,  nor  housed  in  such  hovels,"  said  the  earl. 

"  And  is  it  really  true  that  a  villein  with  you  can  rise 
to  be  a  noble  1 " 

"  Of  at  least  yearly  occurrence.    Perhaps  the  forefathers 

244  I  must,  however,  observe,  that  one  very  important  fact  seems 
to  have  been  generally  overlooked  by  all  inquirers,  or  at  least  not 
sufficiently  enforced,  —  namely,  that  it  was  the  Norman's  contempt 
for  the  general  mass  of  the  subject  population  which,  more  perhaps 
than  any  other  cause,  broke  up  positive  slavery  in  England  Thus 
the  Norman  very  soon  lost  siglit  of  that  distinctiou  the  Anglo- 
Saxons  had  made  Ijetween  the  agricultural  ceorl  and  the  theowe, — 
that  is,  between  the  serf  of  the  soil  and  the  personal  slave.  Hence 
these  classes  became  fused  in  each  other,  and  were  gradually 
emancipated  by  the  same  circumstances.  This,  be  it  remarked, 
could  never  have  taken  place  under  the  Anglo-Saxon  laws,  which 
kept  constantly  feeding  the  class  of  slaves  by  adding  to  it  convicted 
felons  and  tlieir  children.  The  subject  population  became  too 
necessary  to  the  Norman  barons,  in  their  feuds  with  each  other,  or 
their  king,  to  be  long  oppressed ;  and  in  the  time  of  Froissart, 
that  worthy  chronicler  ascribes  the  insolence  or  high  spirit  of  l6 
menu  peujile  to  their  grand  aise,  et  abondunce  de  blens. 


84  HAROLD. 

of  one-fourth  of  our  Anglo-Saxon  thegns  held  the  plough, 
or  followed  some  craft  mechanical." 

Duke  William  politicly  checked  Odo's  answer,  and 
said,  mildly,  — 

"  Every  land  its  own  laws,  and  by  them  alone  should 
it  be  governed  by  a  virtuous  and  wise  ruler.  Eut,  noble 
Harold,  I  grieve  that  you  should  thus  note  the  sore  point 
in  my  realm.  I  grant  that  the  condition  of  the  peas- 
ants and  the  culture  of  the  land  need  reform.  But  in 
my  childhood  there  was  a  fierce  outbreak  of  rebellion 
among  the  villeins,  needing  bloody  example  to  check,  and 
the  memories  of  wrath  between  lord  and  villein  must 
sleep  before  we  can  do  justice  between  them,  as,  please 
St.  Peter,  and  by  Lanfranc's  aid,  we  hope  to  do.  Mean- 
while, one  great  portion  of  our  villeinage  in  our  larger 
towns  we  have  much  mitigated.  For  trade  and  commerce 
are  the  strength  of  rising  states  ;  and  if  our  fields  are 
barren,  our  streets  are  prosperous." 

Harold  bowed,  and  rode  musingly  on.  That  civiliza- 
tion he  had  so  much  admired  bounded  itself  to  the  noble 
class,  and,  at  farthest,  to  the  circle  of  the  duke's  commer- 
cial policy.  Beyond  it,  on  the  outskirts  of  humanity,  lay 
the  mass  of  the  people.  And  here  no  comparison  in 
favor  of  the  latter  could  be  found  between  English  and 
Norman  civilization. 

The  towers  of  Bayeux  rose  dim  in  the  distance,  when 
William  proposed  a  halt  in  a  pleasant  spot  by  the  side  of 
a  small  streain,  overshadowed  by  oak  and  beech.  A  tent 
for  himself  and  Harold  was  pitched  in  haste,  and  after  an 
abstemious  refreshment,  the  duke,  taking  Harold's  arm, 
led  him  away  from  the  train  along  the  margin  of  the  mur- 
muring stream. 

They  were  soon  in  a  remote,  pastoral,  primitive  spot,  — 
a  spot   like   those   which   the   old   menestrels  loved    to 


HAIiOLD.  85 

describe,  and  in  which  some  pious  hermit  might,  pleased, 
have  fixed  his  solitary  home. 

Halting  where  a  mossy  bank  jutted  over  the  water, 
William  motioned  to  his  companion  to  seat  himself,  and, 
reclining  at  his  side,  abstractedly  took  the  pebbles  from 
the  margin  and  dropped  them  into  the  stream.  They  fell 
to  the  bottom  with  a  hollow  sound  ;  the  circle  they  made 
on  the  surface  widened,  and  was  lost;  and  the  wave 
rushed  and  murmured  on,  disdainfuh 

"  Harold,"  said  the  duke  at  last,  "  thou  hast  thought, 
I  fear,  that  I  have  trifled  with  thy  impatience  to  return. 
But  there  is  on  my  mind  a  matter  of  great  moment  to 
thee  and  to  me,  and  it  must  out  before  thou  canst  depart. 
On  this  very  spot  where  we  now  sit,  sat  in  early  youth 
Edward  thy  king,  and  William  thy  host.  Soothed  by 
the  loneliness  of  the  place,  and  the  music  of  the  bell 
from  the  cliurch  tower,  rising  pale  through  yonder  glaile, 
Edward  spoke  of  his  desire  for  the  monastic  life,  and  of 
his  content  with  his  exile  in  the  Norman  land.  Few 
then  were  the  hopes  that  he  should  ever  attain  tlie  throne 
of  Alfred.  I,  more  maitial  and  ardent  for  liim  as  myself, 
combated  the  thought  of  the  convent,  and  promised  that, 
if  ever  occasiini  meet  arrived,  and  he  needed  the  Norman 
help,  I  would,  with  arm  and  heart,  do  a  chief's  best  to 
win  him  his  lawful  crown.  Heedest  thou  me,  dear 
Harold  1 " 

"  Ay,  my  host,  with  heart  as  with  ear." 

"And  Edward  then,  pressing  my  hand  as  I  now  press 
thine,  while  answering  gratefully,  promised,  that  if  he 
did,  contrary  to  all  human  foresight,  gain  his  heritage, 
he,  in  case  I  survived  him,  would  bequeath  that  heritage 
to  me.     Thy  hand  withdraws  itself  from  mine." 

*'  But  from  surprise.     Duke  William,  proceed." 

"  Now,"  resumed  Willianj,  "  wlien   thy   kinsmen  were 


86  HAROLD. 

sent  to  me  as  hostages  for  the  most  powerful  House  in 
England,  —  the  only  one  that  could  thwart  the  desire  of 
my  cousin,  —  I  naturally  deemed  this  a  corrohoration  uf 
Ills  promise,  and  an  earnest  of  his  continued  designs  ;  and 
in  this  I  was  reassured  by  the  prelate,  Robert  archbishop 
of  Canterbury,  who  knew  the  most  secret  conscience  of 
your  king.  Wherefore  my  pertinacity  in  retaining  those 
hostages;  wherefore  my  disregard  to  Edward's  mere  re- 
monstrances, which  I,  not  unnaturally,  conceived  to  be 
but  his  meek  concessions  to  the  urgent  demands  of  thy- 
self and  House.  Since  then,  Fortune  or  Pruvitlence  hath 
favored  the  promise  of  the  king,  and  my  just  expectatiiuis 
founded  theret)n.  For  one  moment  it  seemed  indeed  that 
Edward  regretted  or  reconsidered  the  pledge  of  our  youth. 
He  sent  for  his  kinsman,  the  Atheliug,  natural  heir  to  the 
throne;  but  the  poor  prince  died.  The  son,  a  mere  child, 
if  I  am  rightly  informed,  the  laws  of  thy  land  will  set 
aside,  should  Edward  die  ere  the  child  grow  a  man  ;  and, 
moreover,  I  am  assured  that  the  young  Edgar  hath  no 
power  of  mind  or  intellect  to  wield  so  weighty  a  sceptre 
as  that  of  England,  Your  king,  also,  even  since  your 
absence,  hath  had  severe  visitings  of  sickness,  and  ere 
another  year  his  new  abbey  may  hold  his  tomb." 

William  here  paused  ;  again  dropped  the  pebbles  into 
the  stream,  and  glanced  furtively  on  the  unrevealing  face 
of  the  earl.     He  resumed,  — 

"  Thy  brother  Tostig,  as  so  nearly  allied  to  my  House, 
would,  I  am  advised,  back  my  claims;  and  wert  thou 
absent  from  England,  Tostig,  I  conceive,  would  be  in  thy 
place  as  the  head  of  the  great  party  of  Godwin.  But 
to  prove  how  little  I  care  for  thy  brotlier's  aid  com- 
pareil  with  thine,  and  how  implicitly  I  count  on  thee, 
I  have  openly  told  thee  what  a  wilier  plotter  would 
have    concealed,  —  namely,    the    danger    to    which    thy 


HAROLD.  87 

brother  is  menaced  in  his  own  earldom.  To  the  point, 
then,  I  pass  at  once.  I  might  as  my  ransomed  captive 
detain  thee  here,  until,  without  thee,  I  had  won  my 
English  throne,  and  I  know  that  thou  alone  couldst 
obstruct  my  just  claims,  or  interfere  with  the  king's  v,-ill, 
by  which  that  appanage  will  be  left  to  me.  Nevertheless, 
I  unbosom  myself  to  thee,  and  would  owe  my  crown 
solely  to  thine  aid.  I  pass  on  to  treat  with  thee,  dear 
Harold,  not  as  lord  with  vassal,  but  as  prince  with  prince. 
On  thy  part,  thou  shalt  hold  for  me  the  castle  of  Dover, 
to  yield  to  my  fleet  when  the  hour  comes  ;  thou  shalt  aid 
me  in  peace,  and  through  tliy  National  Witan,  to  succeed 
to  Edward,  by  whose  laws  I  will  reign  in  all  things  con- 
formably with  the  English  rites,  habits,  and  decrees.  A 
stronger  king  to  guard  England  from  the  Dane,  and  a 
more  practised  head  to  improve  her  prosperity,  I  am  vain 
eno'  to  say  thou  wilt  not  find  in  Christendom.  On  my 
part,  I  offer  to  thee  my  fairest  daughter,  Adeliza,  to  whom 
thou  shalt  be  straiglitway  betrothed  ;  thine  own  young 
unwedded  sister,  Thyra,  thou  shalt  give  to  one  of  my 
greatest  barons ;  all  the  lands,  dignities,  and  possessions 
thou  boldest  now,  thou  shalt  still  retain  ;  and  if,  as  T  sus- 
pect, thy  brother  Tostig  cannot  keep  his  vast  principality 
north  the  Humber,  it  shall  pass  to  thee.  "Whatever  else 
thou  canst  demand  in  guarantee  of  my  love  and  gratitude, 
or  so  to  confirm  thy  power  that  thou  shalt  rule  over  thy 
countships  as  free  and  as  powerful  as  the  great  Counts  of 
Provence  or  Anjou  reign  in  France  over  theirs,  subject 
only  to  the  mere  form  of  liolding  in  fief  to  the  Suzerain, 
as  I,  stormy  subject,  hold  Normandy  under  Philip  of 
France,  —  shall  be  given  to  thee.  In  truth,  there  will  be 
two  kings  in  England,  though  in  name  but  one.  And 
far  from  losing  by  the  death  of  Edward,  thou  shalt  gain 
by  the  subjection  of  every  meaner  rival,  and  the  cordial 


88  HAROLD. 

love  of  thy  grateful  William.  —  Splendor  of  God,  earl, 
thou  keepest  me  long  for  thine  answer  !  " 

"  What  thou  offerest,"  said  the  earl,  fortifying  himself 
with  the  resolution  of  the  previous  night,  and  compressing 
his  lips,  livid  with  rage,  "  is  beyond  my  deserts,  and  all 
that  the  greatest  chief  under  royalty  could  desire.  But 
England  is  not  Edward's  to  leave,  nor  mine  to  give ;  its 
throne  rests  with  the  Witan." 

"And  the  Witan  rests  with  thee,"  exclaimed  William, 
sharply,  "  I  ask  but  for  possibilities,  man  :  I  ask  but  all 
thine  influence  on  my  belialf ;  and  if  it  be  less  than  I 
deem,  mine  is  the  loss.  What  dost  thou  resign  1  I  will 
not  presume  to  menace  thee  ;  but  thou  wouldst,  indeed, 
despise  my  folly,  if  now,  knowing  my  designs,  I  let  thee 
f(n'th,  — not  to  aid  but  betray  them.  I  know  thou  lovest 
England,  so  do  I.  Thou  deemest  me  a  foreigner ;  true, 
but  the  Norman  and  Dane  are  of  precisely  the  same 
origin.  Thou,  of  the  race  of  Canute,  knowest  how  popu- 
lar was  the  reign  of  that  king.  Why  should  William's 
be  less  sol  Canute  had  no  right  whatsoever,  save  that 
of  the  sword.  My  right  will  be  kinship  to  Edward, 
Edward's  wish  in  my  favor,  the  consent  through  thee  of 
the  Witan,  the  absence  of  all  other  worthy  heir,  —  my 
wife's  clear  descent  from  Alfred,  which,  in  my  children? 
restore  the  Saxon  line,  through  its  purest  and  noblest 
ancestry,  to  the  throne.  Think  over  all  this,  and  then 
wilt  thou  tell  me  tliat  I  merit  not  this  crown  1 " 

Harold  yet  paused,  and  the  fiery  duke  resumed,  — 

"  Are  the  terms  I  give  not  tempting  eno'  to  my  cap- 
tive, —  to  the  son  of  the  great  Godwin,  who,  no  doubt 
falsely,  but  still  by  the  popular  voice  of  all  Europe,  had 
power  of  life  and  death  over  my  cousin  Alfred  and  my 
Norman  knights  1  or  dost  thou  thyself  covet  the  English 
crown  ;  and  is  it  to  a  rival  that  I  have  opened  my  heart  1 " 


HAROLD.  89 

"  Xay,"  said  Harold,  in  the  crowning  effort  of  his  new 
and  fatal  lesson  in  simulation.  "  Thou  hast  convinced 
me,  Duke  William ;  let  it  be  as  thou  say  est." 

The  duke  gave  way  to  his  joy  by  a  loud  exclamation, 
and  then  recapitulated  the  articles  of  the  engagement,  to 
which  Harold  simply  bowed  his  head.  Amicably  tlien, 
the  duke  embraced  the  earl,  and  the  two  returned  towards 
the  tent. 

While  the  steeds  were  brought  forth,  William  took  the 
opportunity  to  draw  Odo  apart ;  and,  after  a  short  whis- 
pered conference,  the  prelate  hastened  to  his  barb,  and 
spurred  fast  to  Bayeux  in  advance  of  the  party.  All  that 
day,  and  all  that  night,  and  all  the  next  morn  till  noon, 
couriers  and  riders  went  abroad,  north  and  south,  east  and 
west,  to  all  the  more  famous  abbeys  and  churches  in 
Normandy,  and  holy  and  awful  was  the  spoil  with  which 
they  returned  for  the  ceremony  of  the  next  day. 


9CI  HAKQLD. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

The  stafcely  mirth  of  the  evening  banquet  seemed  to 
Harold  as  the  malign  revel  of  some  demoniac  orgy.  He 
thought  he  read  in  every  face  tlie  exultation  over  the  sale 
of  England.  Every  light  laugh  in  the  proverbial  ease  of 
the  social  Normans  rang  on  his  ear  like  the  joy  of  a 
ghastly  Sabbat.  All  his  senses  preternaturally  sharpened 
to  that  magnetic  keenness  in  which  we  less  hear  and  see 
than  conceive  and  divine,  the  lowest  murmur  William 
breathed  in  the  ear  of  Odo,  boomed  clear  to  his  own  ;  the 
slightest  interchange  of  glance  between  some  dark-browed 
priest,  and  large-breasted  warrior,,  flashed  upon  his  vision. 
The  irritation  of  his  recent  and  neglected  wound,  combined 
with  his  mental  excitement  to  quicken,  yet  to  confuse  his 
faculties.  Body  and  soul  were  fevered.  He  floated,  as  it 
were,  between  a  delirium  and  a  dream. 

Late  in  the  evening  he  was  led  into  the  chamber  where 
the  duchess  sat  alone  with  Adeliza  and  her  second  son 
William,  —  a  boy  who  had  the  red  hair  and  florid  hues  of 
the  ancestral  Dane,  but  was  not  without  a  certain  bold  and 
strange  kind  of  beauty,  and  who,  even  in  childhood,  all 
covered  with  broidery  and  gems,  betrayed  the  passion  for 
that  extravagant  and  fantastic  foppery  for  which  William, 
the  red  king,  to  the  scandal  of  church  and  pulpit, 
exchanged  the  decorous  pomp  of  his  fatlier's  generation. 
A  formal  presentation  of  Harold  to  the  little  maid  Avas 
followed  by  a  brief  ceremony  of  words,  which  conveyed 
what  to  the  scornful  sense  of  the  earl  seemed  the  mockery 
of  betrothal  between  infant  and  bearded  man,     Glozing 


HAROLD.  91 

congratulations    buzzed    around  him ;    then    there   was   a 
tlasli  of  lights  oil  his  dizzy  eyes  ;  he  found  himself  moving 
through  a  corridor  between  Odoand  William.      He  was  in 
his  room  hung  with  arras  and  strewed  with  rushes  ;  before 
him,  in  niches,  various  images  of  the  Virgin,  the  Arch- 
angel  Michael,    St.    Stephen,    St.    Peter,    St.    John,     St. 
Valery  ;  and  from  the  bells  in  the  monastic  edifice  hard  by 
tolled  the  third  watch  ^  of  the  night,  —  the  narrow  case- 
ment was  out  of  reach,  high  in  the  massive  wall,  and  the 
starlight  was  darkened  by  the  great  church-tower.    Harold 
longed   for  air.     All  his   earldom   had  he   given  at  tliat 
moment,  to  feel  the  cold  blast  of  his  native  skies  moan- 
ing round  his  Saxon  woLls.     He  opened   his  door,   and 
looked    forth.      A    lanthorn    swung    on    high    from    the 
groined  roof  of   the  corridor.     By  the  lanthorn  stood  a 
tall  sentry  in  arms,  and  its  gleam  fell  red  upon  an  iron 
grate  that  jealously  closed  the  egress.     The  earl  closed  the 
door,  and  sat  down  on  his  bed,  covering  his  face  with  his 
clinched  hand.     The  veins  throbbed  in  every  pulse  ;  his 
own  toucli   seemed  to  him  like  fire.     The  prophecies  of 
Hilda    on    the   fatal  night   by  the  bautastein   which   had 
decided  him  to  reject  the  prayer  of  Gurth,  the  fears   of 
Edith,  and  the  cautions  of  Edward,  came  back  to  him, 
dark,  haunting,  and  overmasteringly.     They  rose  between 
him  and  his  sober  sense,  whenever  he  sought  to  re-collect 
his  thoughts,  now  to  madden  him  with  the  sense  of  his 
folly  in  belief,  now  to  divert  his  mind  from  the  perilous 
present  to  the  triumphant  future  they  foretold ;  and  of  all 
the  varying  chants  of  the  Vala,  ever  two  lines  seemed  to 
burn  into  his  memory,  and  to  knell  upon  his  ear  as  if  they 
contained  the  counsel  they  ordained  him  to  pursue  : 

"  Guile  by  guile  oppose,  and  never 
Crown  and  brow  shall  Force  dissever  1 " 

^  Twelve  o'clock. 


92  HAROLD. 

So  there  he  sat,  locked  and  rigid,  not  reclining,  not  disrob- 
ing, till  in  that  posture,  a  haggard,  troubled,  fitful  sleep 
came  over  him ;  nor  did  he  wake  till  the  hour  of  prime,^ 
when  ringing  bells  and  trampling  feet,  and  the  hum  of 
prayer  from  the  neighboring  chapel,  roused  him  into 
Avaking  yet  more  troubled,  and  welluigh  as  dreamy.  But 
now  Godrith  and  Haco  entered  the  room,  and  the  former 
inquired,  with  some  surprise  in  his  tone,  if  he  had  arranged 
with  the  duke  to  depart  that  day  ;  "for,"  said  he,  "the 
duke's  hors-thegn  has  just  been  with  me,  to  say  that  the 
duke  himself,  and  a  stately  retinue,  are  to  accompany  you 
this  evening  towards  Harfleur,  where  a  ship  will  be  in 
readiness  for  our  transport ;  and  I  know  that  the  chamber- 
lain (a  courteous  and  pleasant  man)  is  going  round  to  my 
fellow  thegns  in  your  train,  with  gifts  of  hawks,  and 
chains,  and  broidered  palls." 

"  It  is  so,"  said  Haco,  in  answer  to  Harold's  brightening 
and  appealing  eye. 

"  Go  then,  at  once,  Godrith,"  exclaimed  the  earl,  bound- 
ing to  his  feet,  "  have  all  in  order  to  part  at  the  first 
break  of  the  trump.  Never,  I  ween,  did  trump  sound  so 
cheerily  as  the  blast  that  shall  announce  our  return  to 
England.     Haste,  haste  !  " 

As  Godrith,  pleased  in  the  earl's  pleasure,  though  him- 
self already  much  fascinated  by  the  honors  he  had  received, 
and  the  splendor  he  had  witnessed,  withdrew,  Haco  said, 
"Thou  hast  taken  my  counsel,  noble  kinsman?" 

"  Question  me  not,  Haco  !  Out  of  my  memory,  all  that 
hath  passed  here ! " 

"Not  yet,"  said  Haco,  with  that  gloomy  and  intense 
seriousness  of  voice  and  aspect,  which  was  so  at  variance 
with  his  years,  and  which  impressed  all  he  said  with  an 
indescribable  authority,  —  "  not  yet ;  for  even  while  the 

^  Six  A.  M. 


HAKOLD.  93 

chamberlain  went  his  round  with  the  parting  gifts,  I, 
standing  in  the  angle  of  the  wall  in  the  yard,  heard  the 
duke's  deep  whisper  to  Roger  Bigod,  who  has  the  guard  of 
the  keape,  '  Have  the  men  all  armed  at  noon  in  the 
passage  below  the  council-hall,  to  mount  at  the  stamp  of 
my  foot ;  and  if  then  I  give  thee  a  prisoner,  wonder  not, 
but  lodge  him  —  '  The  duke  paused  ;  and  Bigod  said, 
'  Where,  my  liege  1 '  And  the  duke  answered,  fiercely, 
*  Where  1  why,  where  but  in  the  Ton?^  noir  ?  —  where,  but 
in  the  cell  in  which  Malvoisin  rotted  out  his  last  hour  ] ' 
Not  yet,  then,  let  the  memory  of  Norman  wile  pass  away  ; 
let  the  lip  guard  the  freedom  still." 

All  the  bright,  native  soul  that  before  Haco  spoke  had 
dawned  gradually  back  on  the  earl's  fair  face,  now  closed 
itself  up,  as  the  leaves  of  a  poisoned  flower ;  and  the 
pupil  of  the  eye  receding,  left  to  the  orb  that  secret  and 
strange  expression  which  had  baffled  all  readers  of  the 
heart  in  the  look  of  his  impenetrable  father. 

"  Guile  by  guile  oppose  !  "  he  muttered,  vaguely  ;  then 
started,  clinched  his  hand,  and  smiled. 

In  a  few  moments,  more  than  the  usual  levee  of  Norman 
nobles  thronged  into  the  room  ;  and  what  with  the 
wonted  order  of  the  morning,  in  the  repast ,  the  church 
service  of  tierce,  and  a  ceremonial  visit  to  Matilda,  who 
confirmed  the  intelligence  that  all  was  in  preparation  for  his 
departure,  and  charged  him  with  gifts  of  her  own  needle- 
work to  his  sister,  the  queen,  and  various  messages  of 
gracious  nature,  the  time  waxed  late  into  noon  without  his 
having  yet  seen  either  William  or  Odo. 

He  was  still  with  Matilda,  when  the  Lords  Fitzosborne 
and  Raoul  de  Tancarville  entered  in  full  robes  of  state,  anil 
with  countenances  unusually  composed  and  grave,  and 
prayed  the  earl  to  accompany  them  into  the  duke's 
presence. 


94  HAEOLD. 

Harold  obeyed  in  silence,  not  unprepared  for  covert 
danger,  b}'-  the  formality  of  the  counts,  as  by  the  warn- 
ings of  Haco ;  but,  indeed,  undivining  the  solemnity  of  the 
appointed  snare.  On  entering  the  loftj"^  hall,  he  beheld 
William  seated  in  state ;  his  sword  of  office  in  his  hand, 
his  ducal  robe  on  his  imposing  form,  and  with  that 
peculiarly  erect  air  of  the  head  which  he  assumed  upon  all 
ceremonial  occasions.^  Behind  him  stood  Odo  of  Bayeux, 
in  aube  and  pallium  ;  some  score  of  the  duke's  greatest 
vassals  ;  and,  at  a  little  distance  from  the  throne-chair,  was 
what  seemed  a  table,  or  vast  chest,  covered  all  over  with 
cloth-of-gold. 

Small  time  for  wonder  or  self-collection  did  the  duke 
give  the  Saxon. 

"  Approach,  Harold,"  said  he,  in  the  full  tones  of  that 
voice,  so  singularly  effective  in  command  ;  "  approach,  and 
without  fear,  as  without  regret.  Before  the  members  of 
tliis  noble  assembly  —  all  witnesses  of  thy  faith,  and  all 
guarantees  of  mine  —  I  summon  thee  to  coniirm  by  oath 
the  promises  thou  mad'st  me  yesterday  ;  namely,  to  aid  me 
to  obtain  the  kingdom  of  England  on  the  death  of  King 
Edward,  my  cousin  ;  to  marry  my  daughter  Adeliza ;  and 
to  send  thy  sister  hither,  that  I  may  wed  her,  as  we 
agreed,  to  one  of  my  worthiest  and  prowest  counts. 
Advance  thou,  Odo,  my  brother,  and  repeat  to  the 
noble  earl  the  Xorman  form  by  which  he  will  take  the 
oath." 

1  A  celebrated  antiquary,  in  his  treatise  in  the  "  Archseologia," 
on  the  authenticity  of  the  Bayeux  tapestry,  very  justly  invites  at- 
tention to  the  rude  attempt  of  the  artist  to  preserve  individuality 
in  his  portraits ;  and  especially  to  the  singularly  erect  bearing  of 
the  dulse,  by  which  he  is  at  once  recognized  wherever  he  is  intro- 
duced. Less  pains  are  taken  with  the  portrait  of  Harold;  but 
even  in  that  a  certain  elegance  of  proportion,  and  length  of  limb, 
as  well  as  height  of  stature,  are  generally  preserved. 


HAROLD.  95 

Then  Odo  stood  forth  by  that  mysterious  receptacle 
covered  with  the  cloth-of-gold,  and  said  briefly  :  "  Thou 
wilt  swear,  as  far  as  is  in  thy  power,  to  fulfil  thy  agree- 
ment with  William,  duke  of  the  Normans,  if  thou  live, 
and  God  aid  thee  ;  and  in  witness  of  that  oath  thou  wilt 
lay  thy  hand  upon  the  reliquaire,"  pointing  to  a  small  box 
that  lay  on  the  cloth-of-gold. 

All  this  was  so  sudden,  all  flashed  so  rapidly  upon 
the  earl,  whose  natural  intellect,  however  great,  was,  as 
we  have  often  seen,  more  deliberate  than  prompt  ;  so 
thoroughly  was  the  bold  heart,  which  no  siege  could 
have  sapped,  taken  by  surprise  and  guile  ;  so  paramount 
through  all  the  whirl  and  tumult  of  his  mind,  rose  the 
thought  of  England  irrevocably  lost,  if  he  who  alone 
could  save  her  was  in  the  Norman  dungeons  ;  so  darkly 
did  all  Haco's  fears,  and  his  own  just  suspicions,  quell 
and  master  him,  that  mechanically,  dizzily,  dreamily,  he 
laid  his  hand  on  the  reliquaire,  and  repeated,  with  auto- 
maton lips,  — • 

"  If  I  live,  and  if  God  aid  me  to  it !  " 

Then  all  the  assembly  repeated  solemnly,  — 

"  God  aid  him  !  " 

And  suddenly,  at  a  sign  from  William,  Odo  and  Raoul 
de  Tancarville  raised  the  gold  cloth,  and  the  duke's  voice 
bade  Harold  look  below. 

As  when  man  descends  from  the  gilded  sepulchre  to 
the  loathsome  charnel,  so,  at  the  lifting  of  that  cloth,  all 
the  dread  ghastliness  of  death  was  revealed.  There,  from 
abbey  and  from  church,  from  cyst  and  from  shrine,  had 
been  collected  all  the  relics  of  human  nothingness  in 
which  superstition  adored  the  mementos  of  saints  divine  ; 
there  lay,  pell-mell  and  huddled,  skeleton  and  mummy, 
—  the  dry,  dark  skin,  the  white,  gleaming  bones  of  the 
dead,  mockingly  cased  in  gold,  and  decked  with  rubies  ; 


96  HAROLD. 

there,  grim  fingers  protruded  through  the  hideous  chaos, 
and  pointed  towards  the  living  man  ensnared ;  there,  the 
skull  grinned  scotf  under  the  holy  mitre  ;  —  and  suddenly- 
rushed  back,  luminous  and  searing,  upon  Harold's  memory, 
the  dream  long  forgotten,  or  but  dimly  remembered  in  the 
healthful  business  of  life,  —  the  gibe  and  the  wirble  of 
the  dead  men's  bones. 

"At  that  sight,"  say  the  Norman  chronicles,  "the 
earl  shuddered  and  trembled." 

"Awful,  indeed,  thine  oath,  and  natural  thine  emo- 
tion," said  the  duke  ;  "  for  in  that  cyst  are  all  those 
relics  which  religion  deems  the  holiest  in  our  land.  The 
dead  have  heard  thine  oath,  and  the  saints  even  now 
record  it  in  the  halls  of  heaven  !  Cover  again  the  holy 
bones ! " 


BOOK    X. 


THE    SACRIFICE    ON    THE    ALTAR. 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  good  Bishop  Aired,  now  raised  to  the  See  of  York, 
had  been  summoned  from  his  cathedral  seat  by  Edward, 
•who  had  indeed  undergone  a  severe  illness  during  the 
absence  of  Harold  ;  and  that  illness  had  been  both  pre- 
ceded and  followed  by  mystical  presentiments  of  the  evil 
days  that  were  to  fall  on  England  after  his  death.  He 
had  therefore  sent  for  the  best  and  the  holiest  prelate  in 
his  realm,  to  advise  and  counsel  with. 

The  bishop  had  returned  to  his  lodging  in  London 
(which  was  in  a  Benedictine  Abbey,  not  far  from  the 
Aldgate)  late  one  evening,  from  visiting  the  king  at  his 
rural  palace  of  Havering ;  and  he  was  seated  alone  in  his 
cell,  musing  over  an  interview  with  Edward,  which  had 
evidently  much  disturbed  him,  when  the  door  was  abruptly 
thrown  open,  and  pushing  aside  in  haste  the  monk,  who 
was  about  formally  to  announce  him,  a  man  so  travel- 
stained  in  garb,  and  of  a  mien  so  disordered,  rushed  in, 
that  Aired  gazed  at  first  as  on  a  stranger,  and  not  till  the 
intruder  spoke  did  he  recognize  Harold  the  Earl.  Even 
then,  so  wild  was  the  earl's  eye,  so  dark  his  brow,  and  so 

VOL.  II.  —  7 


98  IIAKOLD. 

livid  his  cheek,  that  it  rather  seemed  the  ghost  of  the 
man  than  the  man  himself.  Closing  the  door  on  the 
monk,  the  earl  stood  a  moment  on  the  threshold,  with  a 
hreast  heaving  with  emotions  which  he  sought  in  vain  to 
master ;  and,  as  if  resigning  the  effort,  lie  sprang  forward, 
clasped  the  prelate's  knees,  bowed  his  head  on  his  lap, 
and  sobbed  aloud.  The  good  bishop,  who  had  known  all 
the  sons  of  Godwin  from  their  infancy,  and  to  whom 
Harold  was  as  dear  as  his  own  child,  folding  his  hands 
over  the  earl's  head,  soothingly  murmured  a  benediction. 

"  N"o,  no,"  cried  the  earl,  starting  to  his  feet,  and  toss- 
ing the  dishevelled  hair  from  his  eyes,  "bless  me  not  yet ! 
Hear  my  tale  first,  and  then  say  what  comfort,  what 
refuge,  thy  Church  can  bestow !  " 

Hurriedly  then  the  earl  poured  forth  the  dark  story, 
already  known  to  the  reader,  —  the  jirison  at  Belrem,  the 
detention  at  William's  court,  the  fears,  the  snares,  the 
discourse  by  the  river-side,  the  oath  over  the  relics.  This 
told,  he  continued,  "  I  found  myself  in  the  open  air,  and 
knew  not,  till  the  light  of  the  sun  smote  me,  what  might 
have  passed  into  my  soul.  I  was,  before,  as  a  corpse 
which  a  witch  raises  from  the  dead,  endows  with  a  spirit 
not  its  own,  —  passive  to  her  hand,  lifelike,  not  living. 
Then,  then  it  was  as  if  a  demon  had  })assed  from  my 
body,  laughing  scorn  at  the  foul  things  it  had  made  the 
clay  do.  Oh,  father,  father  !  is  there  not  absolution  from 
this  oath,  —  an  oath  I  dare  not  keep?  rather  perjure 
myself  than  betray  my  land  !  " 

The  prelate's  face  was  as  pale  as  Harold's,  and  it  was 
some  moments  before  he  could  reply. 

"  The  Church  can  loose  and  unloose,  —  such  is  its 
delegated  authoritj'.  But  speak  on  ;  what  saidst  thou  at 
the  last  to  William  ? " 

"  I  know  not,  remember  not,  — aught  save  these  words. 


HAROLD.  09 

'  Now,  then,  give  me  those  for  whom  I  placed  myself  in 
thy  power ;  let  me  restore  Haco  to  his  fatherland,  and 
Wolnoth  to  his  mother's  kiss,  and  wend  home  my  way.' 
And,  saints  in  heaven !  what  was  the  answer  of  this 
caitiff  I^orman,  with  his  glittering  eye  and  venomed  smile  1 
'  Haco  thou  shalt  have,  for  he  is  an  orphan,  and  an  uncle's 
love  is  not  so  hot  as  to  burn  from  a  distance  ;  but  Wol- 
noth, thy  mother's  son,  must  stay  with  me  as  a  hostage 
for  thine  own  faith.  Godwin's  hostages  are  released  ; 
Harold's  hostage  I  retain  :  it  is  but  a  form,  yet  these 
forms  are  the  bonds  of  princes.' 

"  I  looked  at  him,  and  his  eye  quailed.  And  I  said, 
*  That  is  not  in  the  compact.'  And  William  answered, 
'  No,  but  it  is  the  seal  to  it.'  Then  I  turned  from  the 
duke  and  I  called  my  brother  to  my  side,  and  I  said, 
'  Over  the  seas  have  I  come  for  thee.  Mount  thy  steed 
and  ride  by  my  side,  for  I  will  not  leave  the  land  without 
thee.'  And  Wolnoth  answered,  '  Nay,  Duke  William 
tells  me  that  he  hath  made  treaties  with  thee,  for  which 
I  am  still  to  be  the  hostage  ;  and  Normandy  has  grown 
my  home,  and  I  love  William  as  my  lord.'  Hot  words 
followed,  and  Wolnoth,  chafed,  refused  entreaty  and  com- 
mand, and  suffered  me  to  see  that  his  heart  was  not  with 
England  !  Oh,  mother,  mother,  how  shall  I  meet  thine 
eye !  So  I  returned  with  Haco.  The  moment  I  set 
foot  on  my  native  England,  that  moment  her  form  seemed 
to  rise  from  the  tall  cliffs,  her  voice  to  speak  in  the  winds  ! 
All  the  glamour  by  which  I  had  been  bound,  forsook  me  ; 
and  I  sprang  forward  in  scorn,  above  the  fear  of  the  dead 
men's  bones.  Miserable  overcraf  t  of  the  snarer !  Had 
my  simple  word  alone  bound  me,  or  that  word  been  rati- 
fied after  slow  and  deliberate  thought,  by  the  ordinary 
oaths  that  appeal  to  God,  far  stronger  the  bond  upon  my 
soul  than  the  mean  surprise,  the  covert  tricks,  the  insult, 


100  HAROLD. 

and  the  mocking  fraud.  But  as  I  rode  on,  the  oath  pur- 
sued me,  —  pale  spectres  mounted  behind  me  on  my 
steed,  ghastly  lingers  pointed  from  the  welkin ;  and  then 
suddenly,  0  my  father, —  I  who,  sincere  in  my  simple 
faith,  had,  as  thou  knowest  too  well,  never  bowed  sub- 
missive conscience  to  priest  and  Church,  —  then  suddenly 
I  felt  the  might  of  some  power,  surer  guide  than  that 
liaughty  conscience  which  had  so  in  the  hour  of  need 
betrayed  me  !  Then  I  recognized  that  supreme  tribunal, 
that  mediator  between  Heaven  and  man,  to  which  I 
might  come  with  the  dire  secret  of  my  soul,  and  say,  as  I 
say  now,  on  my  bended  knee,  oh,  father,  father,  —  bid 
me  die,  or  absolve  me  from  my  oath  ! " 

Then  Aired  rose  erect,  and  replied,  "  Did  I  need  sub- 
terfuge, 0  son,  I  would  say,  that  William  himself  hath 
released  thy  bond,  in  detaining  the  hostage  against  the 
spirit  of  the  guilty  compact ;  that  in  the  very  words 
themselves  of  the  oath,  lies  the  release,  — '  if  God  aid 
thee.''  God  aids  no  child  to  parricide, — and  thou  art 
England's  child  !  But  all  school-casuistry  is  here  a  mean- 
ness. Plain  is  the  law,  that  oaths  extorted  by  compul- 
sion, through  fraud  and  in  fear,  the  Church  hatli  the 
right  to  loose  :  plainer  still  the  law  of  God  and  of  man, 
that  an  oath  to  commit  crime  it  is  a  deadlier  sin  to  keep 
than  to  forfeit.  Wherefore,  not  absolving  thee  from  the 
misdeed  of  a  vow  that,  if  trusting  more  to  God's  provi- 
dence and  less  to  man's  vain  strength  and  dim  wit,  thou 
wouldst  never  have  uttered  even  for  England's  sake,  — 
leaving  her  to  the  angels; — not,  I  say,  absolving  thee 
from  that  sin,  but  pausing  yet  to  decide  what  penance 
and  atonement  to  fix  to  its  committal,  I  do  in  the  name 
of  the  Power  whose  priest  I  am,  forbid  thee  to  fulfil  the 
oath;  I  do  release  and  absolve  thee  from  all  obligation 
thereto.    And  if  in  this  I  exceed  my  authority  as  Romish 


HAROLD.  101 

priest,  I  do  but  accomplish  my  duties  as  living  man.     To 
these  gray  hairs  I  take  the  sponsorship.     Before  this  holy 
cross,  kneel,  0  my  son,  with  me,  and  pray  that  a  life  of 
truth  and  virtue  may  atone  the  madness  of  an  hour." 
So  by  the  crucifix  knelt  the  warrior  and  the  priest. 


102  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER  11. 

All  other  thought  had  given  way  to  Harold's  impetuous 
yearning  to  throw  himself  upon  the  Church,  to  hear  his 
doom  from  the  purest  and  wisest  of  its  Saxon  preachers. 
Had  the  prelate  deemed  his  vow  irrefragable,  he  would 
have  died  the  Roman's  death  rather  than  live  the  traitor's 
life ;  and  strange  indeed  was  the  revolution  created  in 
this  man's  character,  that  he,  "  so  self-dependent,"  he  who 
had  hitherto  deemed  himself  his  sole  judge  below  of  cause 
and  action,  now  felt  the  whole  life  of  his  life  committed 
to  tlie  word  of  a  cloistered  shaveling.  All  other  thought 
had  given  way  to  that  fiery  impulse,  —  home,  mother, 
Edith,  king,  power,  policy,  ambition  !  Till  the  weight 
was  from  his  soul,  he  was  as  an  outlaw  in  liis  native  land. 
But  when  the  next  sun  rose,  and  that  awful  burden  was 
lifted  from  his  heart  and  his  being  ;  when  his  own  calm 
sense,  returning,  sanctioned  the  fiat  of  the  priest ;  when, 
though  with  deep  shame  and  rankling  remorse  at  the 
memory  of  the  vow,  he  yet  felt  exonerated,  not  from  the 
guilt  of  having  made,  but  the  deadlier  guilt  of  fulfilling 
it,  —  all  the  objects  of  existence  resumed  their  natural 
interest,  softened  and  chastened,  but  still  vivid  in  the 
heart  restored  to  humanity.  But  from  that  time,  Harold's 
stern  philosophy  and  stoic  ethics  were  shaken  to  the  dust ; 
re-created,  as  it  were,  by  the  breath  of  religion,  he  adopted 
its  tenets  even  after  the  fashion  of  his  age.  The  secret  of  his 
shame,  the  error  of  his  conscience,  humbled  him.     Those 


HAROLD.  103 

unlettered  monks  whom  he  had  so  despised,  how  had  he 
lost  the  right  to  stand  aloof  from  their  control  !  how  had 
his  wisdom,  and  his  strength,  and  his  courage,  met 
unguarded  the  hour  of  temptation  ! 

Yes,  might  the  time  come,  when  England  could  spare 
him  from  her  side  !  when  he,  like  Sweyn  the  outlaw, 
cuuld  pass  a  pilgrim  to  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  and  there,  as 
the  creed  of  the  age  taught,  win  full  pardon  for  the  single 
lie  of  his  truthful  life,  and  regain  the  old  peace  of  his 
stainless  conscience  ! 

There  are  sometimes  event  and  season  in  the  life  of 
man  the  hardest  and  most  rational,  when  he  is  driven 
jDerforce  to  faith  the  most  implicit  and  submissive;  as  the 
storm  drives  the  wings  of  the  petrel  over  a  measureless 
sea,  till  it  falls  tame,  and  rejoicing  at  refuge,  on  the  sails 
of  some  lonely  ship.  Seasons  when  difficulties,  against 
which  reason  seems  stricken  into  palsy,  leave  him  be- 
wildered in  dismay  ;  when  darkness,  which  experience 
cannot  pierce,  wraps  the  conscience,  as  sudden  night 
wraps  the  traveller  in  the  desert ;  when  error  entangles 
his  feet  in  its  inextricable  web  ;  when,  still  desirous  of 
the  right,  he  sees  before  him  but  a  choice  of  evil ;  and 
the  Angel  of  the  Past,  with  a  flaming  sword,  closes  on 
him  the  gates  of  the  Future.  Then,  Faith  flashes  on 
him,  with  a  light  from  the  cloud.  Then,  he  clings  to 
Prayer  as  a  drowning  wretch  to  the  plank.  Then,  that 
solemn  authority  which  clothes  the  Priest,  as  the  inter- 
preter between  the  soul  and  the  Divinity,  seizes  on  the 
heart  that  trembles  with  terror  and  joy  ;  then,  that  mys- 
terious recognition  of  Atonement,  of  sacrifice,  of  purifying 
lustration  (mystery  which  lies  hid  in  the  core  of  all 
religions),  smooths  tlie  frown  on  the  Past,  removes  the 
flaming  sword  from  the  Future.  The  Orestes  escapes  from 
the  hounding  Furies,  and  follows  the  oracle  to  the  spot 


104  HAROLD. 

where  the  cleansing  dews  shall  descend  on  the  expiated 
guilt. 

He  who  hath  never  known  in  himself,  nor  marked  in 
another,  such  strange  crisis  in  human  fate,  cannot  judge 
of  the  strength  and  the  weakness  it  bestows  ;  but  till  he 
can  so  judge,  the  spiritual  part  of  all  history  is  to  him  a 
blank  scroll,  a  sealed  volume.  He  cannot  comprehend 
what  drove  the  fierce  Heathen,  cowering  and  humbled, 
into  the  fold  of  the  Church ;  what  peopled  Egypt  with 
eremites  ;  what  lined  the  roads  of  Europe  and  Asia  with 
pilgrim  homicides ;  what,  in  the  elder  world,  while  Jove 
yet  reigned  on  Olympus,  is  couched  in  the  dim  traditions 
of  the  expiation  of  Apollo,  the  joy-god,  descending  into 
Hades  ;  or  wliy  the  sinner  went  blithe  and  light-hearted 
from  the  healing  lustrations  of  Eleusis.  In  all  these 
solemn  riddles  of  the  Jove  world,  and  the  Christ's,  is 
involved  the  imperious  necessity  that  man  hath  of  repen- 
tance and  atonement :  through  their  clouds,  as  a  rain- 
bow, shines  the  covenant  that  reconciles  the  God  and  the 
man. 

Now  Life  with  strong  arms  plucked  the  reviving 
Harold  to  itself.  Already  the  news  of  his  return  had 
spread  through  the  city,  and  his  chamber  soon  swarmed 
with  joyous  welcomes  and  anxious  friends.  But  the  first 
congratulations  over,  each  had  tidings,  that  claimed  his 
instant  attention,  to  relate.  His  absence  had  sufficed  to 
loosen  half  the  links  of  that  ill-woven  empire. 

All  the  iSTorth  was  in  arms.  Northumbria  had  re- 
volted as  one  man  from  the  tyrannous  cruelty  of  Tostig ; 
the  insurgents  had  marched  upon  York  ;  Tostig  had  fled 
in  dismay,  none  as  yet  knew  whither.  The  sons  of  Algar 
had  sallied  forth  from  their  Mercian  fortresses,  and  were 
now  in  the  ranks  of  the  Xorthumbrians,  who  it  was 
rumored  had  selected  Morcar  (the  elder)  in  the  place  of 
Tostig. 


HAROLD.  105 

Amidst  these  disasters,  the  king's  health  was  fast  decay- 
ing :  his  mind  seemed  bewildered  and  distraught ;  dark 
ravings  of  evil  portent  that  had  escaped  from  his  lip  in 
his  mystic  reveries  and  visions,  had  spread  abroad, 
bandied  with  all  natural  exaggerations,  from  lip  to  lip. 
The  country  was  in  one  state  of  gloomy  and  vague  appre- 
hension. 

But  all  would  go  well,  now  Harold  the  great  earl  — 
Harold  the  stout,  and  the  wise,  and  tlie  loved  —  had  come 
back  to  his  native  land  ! 

In  feeling  himself  thus  necessary  to  England,  —  all 
eyes,  all  hopes,  all  hearts  turned  to  him,  and  to  him 
alone,  —  Harold  shook  the  evil  memories  from  his  soul, 
as  a  lion  shakes  the  dews  from  his  mane.  His  intellect, 
that  seemed  to  have  burned  dim  and  through  smoke  ia 
scenes  unfamiliar  to  its  exercise,  rose  at  once  equal  to 
the  occasion.  His  words  reassured  the  most  despondent. 
His  orders  were  prompt  and  decisive.  While,  to  and 
fro,  went  forth  his  bodes  and  his  riders,  he  himself  leaped 
on  his  horse,  and  rode  fast  to  Havering. 

At  length,  that  sweet  and  lovely  retreat  broke  on  his 
sight,  as  a  bower  through  the  bloom  of  a  garden.  This 
was  Edward's  favorite  abode  :  he  had  built  it  himself  for 
his  private  devotions,  allured  by  its  woody  solitudes,  and 
the  gloom  of  its  copious  verdure.  Here  it  was  said,  that 
once  at  night,  wandering  through  the  silent  glades,  and 
musing  on  heaven,  the  loud  song  of  the  nightingales  had 
disturbed  his  devotions  ;  with  vexed  and  impatient  soul 
he  had  prayed  that  the  music  might  be  stilled ;  and  since 
then,  never  more  the  nightingale  was  heard  in  the  shades 
of  Havering  ! 

Threading  the  woodland,  melancholy  yet  glorious  with 
the  hues  of  autumn,  Harold  reached  the  low  and  humble 
gate  of  the  timber  edifice,  all  covered  with  creepers  and 


106  HAROLD. 

young  ivy  ;  and  in  a  few  moments  more  he  stood  in  the 
presence  of  the  king. 

Edward  raised  himself  with  pain  from  the  couch  on 
which  he  was  reclined/  beneath  a  canopy  supported  by 
columns  and  surmounted  by  carved  symbols  of  the  bell 
towers  of  Jerusalem  :  and  his  languid  face  briifhtened  at 
the  sight  of  Harold.  Behind  tlie  king  stood  a  man  with 
a  Danish  battle-axe  in  his  hand,  tlie  captain  of  the  royal 
house-carles,  who  on  a  sign  from  the  king  withdrew. 

"Tliou  art  come  back,  Harold,"  said  Edward  then,  in 
a  feeble  voice  ;  and  the  earl  drawing  near,  was  grieved 
and  shocked  at  the  alteration  of  his  face.  "  Thou  art 
come  back  to  aid  this  benumbed  hand,  from  which  the 
earthly  sceptre  is  about  to  fall.  Hash  !  for  it  is  so, 
and  I  rejoice."  Then,  examining  Harold's  features,  yet 
pale  with  recent  emotions,  and  now  saddened  by  sympa- 
thy with  the  king,  he  resumed:  —  "Well,  man  of  this 
Avorld,  that  went  forth  confiding  in  thine  own  strength, 
and  in  the  faith  of  men  of  the  world  like  thee,  —  well, 
were  my  warnings  prophetic,  or  art  thou  contented  with 
thy  mission  %  " 

"  Alas  !"  said  Harold,  mournfidly.  "  Thy  wisdom  was 
greater  than  mine,  0  king ;  and  dread  the  snares  laid  for 
me  and  our  native  land,  under  pretext  of  a  promise  made 
by  thee  to  Count  William,  that  he  should  reign  in  Eng- 
land, should  he  be  your  survivor." 

Edward's  face  grew  troubled  and  embarrassed.  "  Such 
promise,"  he  said,  falteringly,  "when  I  knew  not  the 
laws  of  England,  nor  that  a  realm  could  not  pass  like 
house  and  hide,  by  a  man's  single  testament,  might  well 
escape  from  my  thoughts,  never  too  bent  upon  earthly 
affairs.  But  I  marvel  not  that  my  cousin's  mind  is  more 
tenacious    and    mundane.     And    verily,   in    those    vague 

1  Bayeux  tapestry. 


HAEOLD,  107 

words,  and  from  thy  visit,  I  see  the  future  dark  with 
fate  and  crimson  with  blood," 

Then  Edward's  eyes  grew  locked  and  set,  staring  into 
space ;  and  even  that  reverie,  though  it  awed  him, 
relieved  Harold  of  much  disquietude  for  he  rightly  con- 
jectured, that  on  waking  from  it  Edward  would  press 
him  no  more  as  to  those  details  and  dilemmas  of  con- 
science, of  which  he  felt  that  the  arch-worshipper  of 
relics  was  no  fitting  judge. 

When  the  king,  with  a  heavy  sigh,  evinced  return 
from  the  world  of  vision,  he  stretched  forth  to  Harold  his 
wan,  transparent  hand,  and  said  :  — 

"  Thou  seest  the  ring  on  this  finger  ;  it  comes  to  me 
from  above,  a  merciful  token  to  prepare  my  soul  for 
death.  Perchance  thou  mayest  have  heard  that  once  an 
aged  pilgrim  stopped  me  on  my  way  from  God's  house, 
and  asked  for  alms,  — -  and  I,  having  nought  else  on  my 
person  to  bestow,  drew  from  my  finger  a  ring,  and  gave 
it  to  him,  and  the  old  man  went  his  way,  blessing  me." 

"  I  mind  me  well  of  thy  gentle  charity,"  said  the  earl  ; 
"  for  the  pilgrim  bruited  it  abroad  as  he  passed,  and  much 
talk  was  there  of  it." 

The  king  smiled  faintly.  "  Now  this  was  years  ago. 
It  so  chanced  this  year,  that  certain  Englishers,  on  their 
way  from  the  Holy  Land  fell  in  with  two  pilgrims,  —  and 
these  last  questioned  them  much  of  me.  Anil  one  with 
face  venerable  and  benign,  drew  forth  a  ring  and  said, 
'  When  thou  reachest  England,  give  thou  this  to  tlie 
king's  own  hand,  and  say,  by  this  token  that  on  Twelfth- 
Day  Eve  he  shall  be  with  me.  For  what  he  gave  to  me. 
will  I  prepare  recompense  without  bound  ;  and  already 
the  saints  deck  for  the  new-comer  the  halls  where  the 
worm  never  gnaws  and  the  moth  never  frets.'  '  And 
who,'  asked  my  subjects,  amazed,  — ■  '  who  shall  we  say 


108  HAROLD. 

speaketh  thus  to  us  1 '  And  the  pilgrim  answered, '  He  on 
whose  breast  leaned  the  son  of  God,  and  my  name  is 
John  ! '  ^  Wherewith  the  apparition  vanished.  This  is 
the  ring  I  gave  to  the  pilgrim ;  on  the  fourteenth  night 
from  thy  parting,  miraculously  returned  to  me.  Where- 
fore, Harold,  my  time  here  is  brief,  and  I  rejoice  that  thy 
coming  delivers  me  up  from  the  cares  of  state  to  the  prep- 
aration of  my  soul  for  the  joyous  day." 

Harold,  suspecting  under  this  incredible  mission  some 
wily  device  of  the  Norman,  who,  by  thus  warning  Edward 
(of  whose  precarious  health  he  was  well  aware),  might 
induce  his  timorous  conscience  to  take  steps  for  the  com- 
pletion of  the  old  promise.  —  Harold,  we  say,  thus  sus- 
pecting, in  vain  endeavored  to  combat  the  king's  presenti- 
ments, but  Edward  interrupted  him,  with  displeased  firm- 
ness of  look  and  tone,  — 

"  Come  not  thou,  with  thy  human  reasonings,  between 
my  soul  and  the  messenger  divine ;  but  rather  nerve  and 
prepare  thyself  for  the  dire  calamities  that  lie  greeding  in 
the  days  to  come  !  Be  thine,  things  temporal  All  the 
land  is  in  rebellion.  Anlaf,  whom  thy  coming  dismissed, 
hath  just  wearied  me  with  sad  tales  of  bloodshed  and 
ravage.  Go  and  hear  him  ;  go  hear  the  bodes  of  thy 
brother  Tostig,  who  wait  without  in  our  hall  ;  go,  take 
axe,  and  take  shield,  and  the  men  of  earth's  war,  and  do 
justice  and  right  ;  and  on  thy  return  thou  shalt  see  with 
what  rapture  sublime  a  Christian  king  can  soar  aloft  from 
his  throne  !     Go  !  " 

More  moved,  and  more  softened,  than  in  the  former 
day  he  had  been  with  Edward's  sincere,  if  fanatical  piety, 
Harold,  turning  aside  to  conceal  his  face,  said,  — 

1  Ail.  "  De  Vit  Edw."  —  Many  other  chroniclers  mention  this 
legend,  of  which  the  stones  of  Westminster  Abbey  itself  prated, 
in  the  statues  of  Edward  and  the  Pilgrim,  placed  over  the  arch  in 
Dean's  Yard. 


HAROLD.  109 

"  Would,  0  royal  Edward,  that  my  heart,  amidst 
worldly  cares,  were  as  pure  and  serene  as  tliine  !  But  at 
least,  what  erring  mortal  may  do  to  guard  this  realm,  and 
face  the  evils  thou  foreseest  in  th&  far,  —  that  will  I  do  ; 
and,  perchance  then,  in  my  dying  hour,  God's  pardon  and 
peace  may  descend  on  me  !  "     He  spoke,  and  went. 

The  accounts  he  received  from  Aulaf  (a  veteran  Anglo- 
Dane)  were  indeed  more  alarming  than  he  had  yet  heard. 
Morcar,  the  hold  son  of  Algar,  was  already  proclaimed  by 
the  rebels  earl  of  Northnmbria  ;  the  shires  of  Nottingham, 
Derby,  and  Lincoln,  had  poured  forth  their  hardy  Dane 
populations  on  his  behalf.  All  Mercia  was  in  arms  under 
his  brother  Edwin  ;  and  many  of  the  Cymrian  chiefs  had 
already  joined  the  ally  of  the  butchered  Gryffyth. 

Not  a  moment  did  the  earl  lose  in  proclaiming  the 
Herrbann  ;  sheaves  of  arrows  were  splintered,  and  the 
fragments,  as  announcing  the  War-Fyrd,  were  sent  from 
thegn  to  thegn,  and  town  to  town.  Fresh  messengers 
were  despatched  to  Gurth  to  collect  the  whole  force  of 
his  own  earldom,  and  haste  by  quick  marches  to  London ; 
and,  these  preparations  made,  Harold  returned  to  the 
metropolis,  and  with  a  heavy  heart  sought  his  motlier,  as 
his  next  care. 

Githa  was  already  prepared  for  his  news  ;  for  Haco 
had  of  his  own  accord  gone  to  break  tlie  first  shock  of  dis- 
appointment. There  was  in  this  youth  a  noiseless  sagacity 
that  seemed  ever  provident  for  Harold.  With  his  sombre, 
smileless  cheek,  and  gloom  of  beauty,  bowed  as  if  beneath 
the  weight  of  some  invisible  doom,  he  had  already  become 
linked  indissolubly  with  the  earl's  fate,  as  its  angel, — 
but  as  its  angel  of  darkne-ss  ! 

To  Harold's  intense  relief,  Githa  stretched  forth  her 
hands  as  he  entered,  and  said,  "  Thou  hast  failed  me,  but 
against  thy  will !     Grieve  not ;  I  am  content !  " 


110  HAEOLD. 

"  Now  our  Lady  be  blessed,  mother  —  " 

"  I  Iiave  told  her,"  said  Haco,  who  was  standing,  with 
arras  folded,  by  the  fire,  the  blaze  of  which  reddened  fit- 
fully his  hueless  countenance  with  its  raven  hair,  —  "I 
have  told  thy  mother  that  Wolnoth  loves  his  captivity, 
and  enjoys  the  cage.  And  the  lady  hath  had  comfort  in 
my  words." 

"  'Not  in  thine  only,  son  of  Sweyn,  Imt  in  those  of  fate  ; 
for  before  thy  coming  I  prayed  against  the  long  blind 
yearning  of  my  heart,  prayed  that  Wolnoth  might  7iut 
cross  the  sea  with  his  kinsmen." 

"  How  !  "  exclaimed  the  earl,  astonished. 

Githa  took  his  arm,  and  leil  him  to  the  farther  end  of 
the  ample  chamber,  as  if  out  of  the  hearing  of  Haco,  who 
turned  his  face  towards  the  fire,  and  gazed  into  the  fierce 
blaze  with  musing,  unwinking  eyes. 

"  Couldst  thou  think,  Harold,  that  in  thy  journey,  that 
on  the  errand  of  so  great  fear  and  hope,  I  could  sit  brood- 
ing in  my  chair,  and  count  the  stitches  on  the  tremulous 
hangings  ?  No  ;  day  by  day  have  I  sought  the  lore  of 
Hilda,  and  at  night  I  have  watched  with  her  by  the 
fount,  and  the  elm,  and  the  tomb  ;  and  I  know  that  thou 
hast  gone  througli  dire  peril ;  the  prison,  the  war,  and 
the  snare  ;  and  I  know  also  that  his  Fylgia  hath  saved 
the  life  of  my  Wolnoth  ;  for  had  he  i^eturned  to  his 
native  land,  he  had  returned  but  to  a  bloody  grave  !  " 

*'  Says  Hilda  this  1 "  said  the  earl,  thoughtfully. 

"  So  says  the  Vala,  the  rune,  and  the  Scin-laeca  !  and 
such  is  the  doom  that  now  darkens  the  brow  of  Haco  ! 
Seest  thou  not  that  the  hand  of  death  is  in  the  hush  of 
the  smileless  lip,  and  the  glance  of  the  unjoyous  eye  1 " 

"Naj,  it  is  but  the  thought  l)orn  to  captive  youth,  and 
nurtured  in  solitary  dreams.  Thou  hast  seen  Hilda?  — 
and  Edith,  my  mother?     Edith  is  —  " 


HAROLD.  Ill 

"Well,"  said  Githa,  kindl}^  for  she  sympathized  with 
that  love  which  Godwin  would  have  condemned,  "  though 
she  grieved  deeply  after  thy  departure,  and  would  sit  for 
hours  gazing  into  space,  and  moaning.  But  even  ere 
Hilda  divined  thy  safe  return,  Edith  knew  it :  I  was 
beside  her  at  the  time  ;  she  started  up  and  cried,  'Harold 
is  in  England  ! '  —  '  How  1  Why  thinkest  thou  so  1 '  said 
I.  And  Edith  answered,  '  I  feel  it  by  the  touch  of  the 
earth,  by  the  breath  of  the  air.'  This  is  more  than  love, 
Harold.  I  knew  two  twins  who  had  the  same  instinct  of 
each  other's  comings  and  goings,  and  were  present  each  to 
each  even  when  absent  :  Edith  is  twin  to  th}'^  soul.  Thou 
goest  to  her  now,  Harold  ;  thou  wilt  find  there  thy  sister 
Thyra.  The  child  hath  drooped  of  late,  and  I  besought 
Hilda  to  revive  her, with  herb  and  charm.  Thou  wilt  come 
back  ere  thou  departest  to  aid  Tostig,  thy  brother,  and  tell 
me  how  Hilda  hath  prospered  with  my  ailing  child?" 

"  I  will,  my  mother.  Be  cheered  !  —  Hilda  is  a  skilful 
nurse.  And  now  bless  thee,  that  thou  hast  not  reproached 
nie  that  my  mission  failed  to  fulfil  ray  promise.  Welcome 
even  our  kinswoman's  sayings,  sith  they  comfort  thee  for 
the  loss  of  thy  darling  !  " 

Then  Harold  left  the  room,  mounted  his  steed,  and 
rode  through  the  town  towards  the  bridge.  He  was  com- 
pelled to  ride  slowly  through  the  streets,  for  he  was 
recognized ;  and  cheapman  and  mechanic  rushed  from 
bouse  and  from  stall  to  hail  the  Man  of  the  Land  and  the 
Time. 

"  All  is  safe  now  in  England,  for  Harold  is  come  back  !  " 
They  seemed  joyous  as  the  children  of  the  mariner,  when, 
with  wet  garments,  he  struggles  to  shore  through  the 
storm.  And  kind  and  loving  were  Harold's  looks  and 
brief  words,  as  he  rode  with  veiled  bonnet  through  the 
swarming  streets. 


112  HAROLD. 

At  length  he  cleared  the  town  and  the  bridge  ;  ami  the 
yellowing  boughs  of  the  orchards  drooped  over  the  road 
towards  the  Roman  home,  when,  as  he  spurred  his  steed, 
he  heard  behind  him  hoofs  as  in  pursuit,  looked  back, 
and  beheld  Haco.  He  drew  rein,  —  "  What  wantest  thou, 
my  nephew  ?" 

"  Thee  !  "  answered  Haco,  briefly,  as  he  gained  his  side. 
"Thy  companionship." 

"  Thanks,  Haco ;  but  I  pray  thee  to  stay  in  my 
mother's  house,  for  I  would  fain  ride  alone." 

"  Spurn  me  not  from  thee,  Harold  !  Tliis  England  is 
to  me  the  land  of  the  stranger  ;  in  thy  mother's  house  I 
feel  but  the  more  the  orphan.  Henceforth  I  have 
devoted  to  thee  my  life  !  And  my  life  my  dead  and 
dread  father  hath  left  to  thee,  as  a  doom  or  a  blessing  ; 
wherefore  cleave  I  to  thy  side,  —  cleave  we  in  life  and  in 
death  to  each  other  !  " 

An  undefined  and  cheerless  thrill  shot  through  the 
earl's  heart  as  the  youth  spoke  thus ;  and  the  remem- 
brance that  Haco's  counsel  had  first  induced  him  to 
abandon  his  natural  hai'dy  and  gallant  manhood,  met  wile 
by  wile,  and  thus  suddenly  entangled  him  in  his  own 
meshes,  had  already  mingled  an  inexpressible  bitterness 
with  his  pity  and  affection  for  his  brother's  son.  But 
struggling  against  that  uneasy  sentiment,  as  unjust  towards 
one  to  whose  counsel,  —  however  sinister,  and  now  re- 
pented, —  he  probably  owed,  at  least,  his  safety  and 
deliverance,  he  replied  gently,  — 

"  I  accept  thy  trust  and  thy  love,  Haco  !  Ride  with 
me,  then  ;  but  pardon  a  dull  comrade,  for  when  the  soul 
communes  with  itself  the  lip  is  silent." 

"True,"  said  Haco,  "and  I  am  no  babbler.  Three 
things  are  ever  silent :  Thought,  Destiny,  and  the  Grave." 

Each  then,  pursuing  his  own  fancies,  rode  on  fast,  and 


HAROLD.  113 

side  by  side  :  the  long  shadows  of  declining  day  struggling 
with  a  sky  of  unusual  brightness,  and  thrown  from  the 
dim  forest  trees  and  the  distant  hillocks.  Alternately 
through  shade  and  through  light  rode  they  on,  —  the 
bulls  gazing  on  them  from  holt  and  glade,  and  tlie  boom 
of  the  bittern  sounding  in  its  peculiar  niournfulness  of 
tone  as  it  rose  from  the  dank  pools  that  glistened  in  the 
western  sun. 

It  was  always  by  the  rear  of  the  house,  where  stood 
the  ruined  temple,  so  associated  with  the  romance  of  his 
life,  that  Harold  approached  the  home  of  the  Vala ;  and 
as  now  the  hillock,  with  its  melancholy  diadem  of  stones, 
came  in  view,  Haco  for  the  first  time  broke  the  silence. 

"Again, — ^  as  in  a  dream,"  he  said  abruptly.  ''Hill, 
ruin,  grave-mound,  —  but  where  the  tall  image  of  the 
mighty  one?" 

"  Hast  thou  then  seen  this  spot  before  1 "  asked  the  earl. 

"  Yea,  as  an  infant  here  was  I  led  by  my  father  Sweyn  ; 
here,  too,  from  thy  house  yonder,  dim  seen  through  the 
fading  leaves,  on  the  eve  before  I  left  this  land  for  tlie 
Norman,  here  did  I  wander  alone  ;  and  there,  by  that 
altar,  did  the  great  Vala  of  the  North  chant  her  runes  for 
my  future." 

"  Alas !  thou  too  !  "  murmured  Harold  ;  and  then  he 
asked  aloud,  "  What  said  she  1 " 

"  That  thy  life  and  mine  crossed  each  other  in  the 
skein  ;  that  I  should  save  thee  from  a  great  peril,  and 
share  with   thee  a  greater." 

"  Ah,  youth,"  answered  Harold,  bitterly,  "  these  vain 
prophecies  of  human  wit  guard  the  soul  from  no  danger. 
They  mislead  us  by  riddles  which  our  hot  hearts  interpret 
according  to  their  own  desires.  Keep  thou  fast  to  youth's 
simple  wisdom,  and  trust  only  to  the  pure  spirit  and  the 
watchful  God." 

VOL.  II.  —  8 


114  HAROLD. 

He  suppressed  a  groan  as  he  spoke,  and,  springing  from 
his  steed,  wliicli  he  left  loose,  advanced  up  the  hill. 
When  he  had  gained  the  height,  he  halted,  and  made 
sign  to  Haco,  who  had  also  dismounted,  to  do  the  same. 
Half-way  down  the  side  of  the  slope  which  faced  the 
ruined  peristyle,  Haco  beheld  a  maiden,  still  young,  and  of 
beauty  surpassing  all  that  the  court  of  Normandy  boasted 
of  female  loveliness.  She  was  seated  on  the  sward  ;  while 
a  girl,  younger,  and  scarcely  indeed  grown  into  woman- 
hood, reclined  at  her  feet,  and,  leaning  her  cheek  upon 
her  hand,  seemed  hushed  in  listening  attention.  In  the 
face  of  the  younger  girl  Haco  recognized  Thyra,  the  last- 
born  of  Githa,  though  he  had  but  once  seen  her  before, 
—  the  day  ere  he  left  England  for  the  Norman  court,  — 
for  the  face  of  the  girl  was  but  little  changed,  save  that 
the  eye  was  more  mournful,  and  the  cheek  was  jmler. 

And  Harold's  betrothed  was  singing,  in  the  still  autumn 
air,  to  Harold's  sister.  The  song  chosen  was  on  that 
subject  the  most  popular  with  the  Saxon  poets,  —  the 
mystic  life,  death,  and  resurrection  of  the  fabled  Phoenix  ; 
and  this  rhymeless  song,  in  its  old  native  flow,  may  yet 
find  some  grace  in  the  modern  ear. 


s"^ 


THE   LAY   OF   THE    PHCENIX.i 

Shineth  far  hence,  —  so 

Sing  the  wise  elders, — 
Far  to  the  fire  east 

The  fairest  of  lands. 

^  This  ancient  Saxon  lay,  apparently  of  the  date  of  the  tenth  or 
eleventh  century,  may  be  found,  admirably  translated  by  Mr. 
George  Stephens,  in  the  "  Archfeologia,''  vol.  xxx.  p.  259.  In  the 
text  the  poem  is  much  aliridged,  reduced  into  rhytlim,  and  in  some 
stanzas  wholly  altered  from  the  original ;  but  it  is  nevertheless 
greatly  indebted  to  Mr.  Stephens's  translation,  from  which  several 


HAROLD.  115 

Daintily  dight  is  that 

Dearest  of  joy-fields ; 
Breezes  all  balm-y-ftlled 

Glide  through  its  grovea. 

There  to  the  blest,  ope 

The  high  doors  of  heaven» 
Sweetly  sweep  earthward 

Their  wavelets  of  song. 

Frost  robes  the  sward  not, 

Rushes  no  hail-steel ; 
Wind-cloud  ne'er  wanders. 

Ne'er  falleth  the  rain. 

Warding  the  woodholt, 

Girt  with  gay  wonder, 
Sheen  with  the  plumy  shiu6> 

Phcenix  abides. 

Lord  of  the  Lleod,^ 

Whose  home  is  the  air, 
Winters  a  thousand 

Abideth  the  bird. 

Hapless  and  heavy  then 

Waxeth  the  hazy  wing  ; 
Year»worn  and  old  in  the 

Whirl  of  the  earth. 

Then  the  high  holt-top 

Mounting,  the  bird  soars ; 
There,  where  the  winds  sleep. 

He  buildeth  a  nest  ;  — 

lines  are  borrowed  verbatim.    The  more  careful  reader  will  note 
the  great  aid  given  to  a  rhymeless  metre  by  alliteration,     I  am  not 
sure  that  this  old  Saxon  mode  of  verse  might  not  be  profitably 
restored  to  our  national  muse, 
i  People. 


116  HAROLD. 


Gums  the  most  precious,  and 
Balms  of  the  sweetest, 

Spices  and  odors,  he 
Weaves  in  the  nest. 

There,  in  that  sun-ark,  lo, 

Waiteth  he  wistful ; 
Summer  comes  smiling,  lo, 

Eays  smite  the  pile  ! 

Burdened  with  eld-years,  and 
Weary  with  slow  time, 

Slow  in  his  odor-nest 
Burneth  the  bird. 

Up  from  those  ashes,  then 
Springeth  a  rare  fruit  ; 

Deep  in  the  rare  fruit 
There  coileth  a  worm. 

Weaving  bliss-meshes 
Around  and  around  it. 

Silent  and  blissful,  the 
Worm  worketh  on. 

Lo,  from  the  airy  web, 
Blooming  and  brightsome, 

Young  and  exulting,  the 
Phcenix  breaks  forth. 

Round  him  the  birds  troop, 
Singing  and  hailing  ; 

Wings  of  all  glories 
Engarland  the  king 

Hymning  and  hailing, 

Through  forest  and  sun-air, 

Hymning  and  hailing, 
And  speaking  him  "  King." 


117 


HAROLD. 

High  flies  the  phoenix, 

Escaped  from  the  worm-web  ; 

He  soars  in  the  sunlight, 
He  bathes  in  the  dew. 

He  visits  his  old  haunts, 

The  holt  and  the  sun-hill ; 
The  founts  of  his  youth,  and 

The  fields  of  his  love. 

The  stars  in  the  welkin. 

The  blooms  on  the  earth, 
Are  glad  in  his  gladness, 

Are  young  in  his  youth. 

While  round  him  the  birds  troop,  the 

Hosts  of  the  Himmelji 
Blisses  of  music,  and 

Glories  of  wings  ; 

Hymning  and  hailing, 

And  filling  the  sun-air 
"With  music  and  glory. 

And  praise  of  the  king. 

As  the  lay  ceased,  Thyra  said, — 

"  Ah,  Edith,  who  would  not  brave  tlie  funeral-pyre  to 
live  again  like  tlie  phoenix!  " 

"  Sweet  sister  mine,"  answered  Edith,  "  the  singer  doth 
mean  to  image  out  in  the  phoenix  the  rising  of  our  Lord 
in  whom  we  all  live  again." 

And  Thyra  said,  mournfully,  — 

"  But  the  phoenix  sees  once  more  the  haunts  of  his 
youth, —  the  things  and  places  dear  to  him  in  his  life 
before.      Shall  we  do  the  same,  0  Edith  ? " 

"  It  is  the  persons  we  love  that  make   beautiful    the 

1  Heaven. 


118  HAllOLD. 

haunts  we  have  known,"  answered  the  betrothed.  "  Those 
persons  at  least  we  shall  behold  again ;  and  wherever  thet/ 
are,  there  is  heaven." 

Harold  could  restrain  himself  no  longer.  With  one 
bound  he  was  at  Edith's  side,  and  with  one  wild  cry  of 
joy  he  clasped  her  to  his  heart. 

"  I  knew  that  thou  wouldst  come  to-night, —  I  knew  it, 
Harold,"  murmured  the  betrothed. 


HAROLD.  119 


CHAPTER  III. 

"While,  full  of  themselves,  Harold  and  Edith  wandered, 
hand  in  hand,  through  the  neighboring  glades,  —  while 
into  that  breast  which  had  forestalled,  at  least,  in  this 
pure  and  sublime  union,  the  wife's  privilege  to  soothe 
and  console,  the  troubled  man  poured  out  the  tale  of  the 
sole  trial  from  which  he  had  passed  with  defeat  and 
shame,  —  Haco  drew  near  to  Thyra,  and  sat  down  by  her 
side.  Each  was  strangely  attracted  towards  the  other ; 
there  was  something  congenial  in  the  gloom  which  they 
shared  in  common  ;  though  in  the  girl  the  sadness  was 
soft  and  resigned,  in  the  youth  it  was  stern  and  solemn. 
They  conversed  in  whispers,  and  their  talk  was  strange 
for  companions  so  young ;  for,  whether  suggested  by 
Edith's  song,  or  the  neighborhood  of  the  Saxon  grave- 
stone, which  gleamed  on  their  eyes,  gray  and  wan, 
through  the  crommel,  the  theme  they  selected  was  of 
death.  As  if  fascinated,  as  children  often  are,  by  the 
terrors  of  the  Dark  King,  they  dwelt  on  those  images 
with  which  the  Northern  fancy  has  associated  the  eter- 
nal rest :  on  the  shroud  and  the  worm,  and  the  moulder- 
ing bones,  —  on  the  gibbering  ghost,  and  the  sorcerer's 
spell  that  could  call  the  spectre  from  the  grave.  They 
talked  of  the  pain  of  the  parting  soul,  parting  while  earth 
was  yet  fair,  youth  fresh,  and  joy  not  yet  ripened  from 
the  blossom,  —  of  the  wistful  lingering  look  which  the 
glazing  eyes  would  give  to  the  latest  sunlight  it  should 
behold  on  earth ;   and  then  pictured    the  shivering  and 


120  HAROLD. 

naked  soul,  forced  from  the  reluctant  clay,  wandering 
through  cheerless  space  to  the  intermediate  tortures, 
which  the  Church  taught  that  none  were  so  pure  as  not 
for  a  while  to  undergo,  and  hearing,  as  it  wandered,  the 
knell  of  the  muffled  bells  and  the  burst  of  unavailing 
prayer.     At  length  Haco  paused  abruptly,  and  said,  — 

"  But  thou,  cousin,  hast  before  thee  love  and  sweet 
life,  and  these  discourses  are  not  for  thee." 

Thyra  shook  her  head  mournfully,  — 

"  K'ot  so,  Haco  ;  for  when  Hilda  consulted  the  runes, 
while,  last  night,  she  mingled  the  herbs  for  my  pain, 
Avhich  rests  ever  hot  and  sharp  here,"  and  the  girl  laid 
her  hand  on  her  breast,  "  I  saw  that  her  face  grew  dark 
and  overcast ;  and  I  felt,  as  I  looked,  that  my  doom  was 
set.  And  when  thou  didst  come  so  noiselessly  to  my 
side,  with  thy  sad,  cold  eyes,  0  Haco,  methought  I  saw 
the  Messenger  of  Death.  But  thou  art  strong,  Haco,  and 
life  will  be  long  for  thee ;  let  us  talk  of  life." 

Haco  stooped  down  and  pressed  his  lips  upon  the  girl's 
pale  forehead. 

"  Kiss  me  too,  Thyra." 

The  child  kissed  him,  and  they  sat  silent  and  close  by 
each  other  while  the  sun  set. 

And  as  the  stars  rose,  Harold  and  Edith  joined  them. 
Harold's  face  was  serene  in  the  starlight,  for  the  pure 
soul  of  his  betrothed  had  breathed  peace  into  his  own  ; 
and,  in  his  willing  superstition,  he  felt  as  if,  now  restored 
to  his  guardian  angel,  the  dead  men's  bones  had  released 
their  unhallowed  hold. 

But  suddenly  Edith's  hand  trembled  in  his,  and  her  form 
shuddered.  —  Her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  those  of  Haco. 

*'  Forgive  me,  young  kinsman,  that  I  forgot  thee  so 
long,"  said  the  earl.  "  This  is  my  brother's  son,  Edith  ; 
thou  hast  not,  that  I  remember,  seen  him  before  "i " 


HAROLD.  121 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Edith,  falteringly. 

"  When,  and  where  ?  " 

Edith's  soul  answered  the  question,  "  In  a  dream  ;  " 
but  her  lips  were  silent. 

And  Haco,  rising,  took  her  by  the  hand,  while  the 
earl  turned  to  his  sistei',  —  that  sister  whom  he  was 
pledged  to  send  to  the  Nornian  court ;  and  Tliyra  said 
plaintively,  — 

"  Take  me  in  thine  arms,  Harold,  and  wrap  thy  man- 
tle round  me,  for  the  air  is  cold." 

The,  earl  lifted  the  child  to  his  breast,  and  gazed  on 
her  cheek  long  and  wistfully  ;  then,  questioning  her  ten- 
derly, he  took  her  within  the  house ;  and  Edith  followed 
with  Haco. 

"  Is  Hilda  within  1"  asked  the  son  of  Sweyn. 

"Nay,  she  hath  been  in  the  forest  since  noon," 
answered  Edith  with  an  effort,  for  she  could  not  recover 
her  awe  of  his  presence. 

"  Then,"  said  Haco,  halting  at  the  threshold,  "  I  will 
go  across  the  woodland  to  your  house,  Harold,  and  pre- 
pare your  ceorls  for  your  coming." 

"  I  shall  tarry  here  till  Hilda  returns,"  answered 
Harold,  "  and  it  may  be  late  in  the  night  ere  I  reach 
home  ;  but  Sexwulf  already  hath  my  orders.  At  sun- 
rise we  return  to  London,  and  thence  we  march  on  the 
insurgents." 

"  All  shall  be  ready.  Farewell,  noble  Edith ;  and 
thou,  Thyra  my  cousin,  one  kiss  more  to  our  meeting 
again." 

The  child  fondly  held  out  her  arms  to  him,  and  as  she 
kissed  his  cheek,  whispered,  — 

"  In  the  grave,  Haco  !  " 

The  young  man  drew  his  mantle  around  him,  and 
moved  away.     But  he  did  not  mount  his  steed,  which 


122  HAROLD. 

still  grazed  by  the  road ;  while  Harold's,  more  familiar 
with  the  place,  had  found  its  way  to  the  stall ;  nor  did 
he  take  his  path  through  the  glades  to  the  house  of  his 
kinsman.  Entering  the  Druid  temple,  he  stood  musing 
by  the  Teuton  tomb. 

The  night  grew  deep  and  deeper,  the  stars  more  lumi- 
nous, and  the  air  more  hushed,  when  a  voice,  close  at  his 
side,  said  clear  and  abrupt,  — 

"  What  does  Youth  the  restless  by  Death  the  still  ? " 

It  was  the  peculiarity  of  Haco  that  nothing  ever 
seemed  to  startle  or  surprise  him.  In  that  brooding 
boyhood,  the  solemn,  quiet,  and  sad  experience,  all  fore- 
armed, of  age,  had  something  in  it  terrible  and  preter- 
natural ;  so,  without  lifting  his  eyes  from  the  stone,  he 
answered,  — 

"  How  say  est  thou,  0  Hilda,  that  the  dead  are  still  ?  " 

Hilda  placed  her  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  stooped  to 
look  into  his  face. 

"  Tliy  rebuke  is  just,  son  of  Sweyn.  In  Time,  and  in 
the  Universe,  there  is  no  stillness  !  Through  all  eternity 
the  state  impossible  to  the  soul  is  repose  !  —  So  again  thou 
art  in  thy  native  land  ?  " 

"  And  for  what  end.  Prophetess  ?  I  remember  when 
but  an  infant,  who  till  then  had  enjoyed  the  common  air 
and  the  daily  sun,  thou  didst  rob  me  evermore  of  child- 
hood and  youth.  For  thou  didst  say  to  my  father,  that 
'  dark  was  the  woof  of  my  fate,  and  that  its  most  glorious 
hour  should  be  its  last ! ' " 

"  But  thou  wert  surely  too  childlike  (I  see  thee  now  as 
thou  wert  then,  stretched  on  the  grass,  and  playing  with 
thy  father's  falcon  \)  —  too  childlike  to  heed  my  words." 

"Does  the  new  ground  reject  the  germs  of  the  soAver, 
or  the  young  heart  the  first  lessons  of  Avonder  and  awe  1 
Since  then.  Prophetess,  Night  hath  been  my  comrade, 


HAROLD.  123 

and  Death  my  familiar.  Rememberest  thou  again  the 
hour  when,  steaHng,  a  bo}',  from  Harold's  house  in  his 
absence,  —  the  night  ere  I  left  my  land,  —  I  stood  on  this 
mound  by  thy  side  1  Then  did  I  tell  thee  that  the  sole, 
soft  thought  that  relieved  the  bitterness  of  my  soul,  when 
all  the  rest  of  my  kinsfolk  seemed  to  behold  in  me  but 
the  heir  of  Sweyn,  the  outlaw  and  homicide,  was  the  love 
that  I  bore  to  Harold  ;  but  that  that  love  itself  was 
mournful  and  bodeful  as  the  hwata  ^  of  distant  sorrow. 
And  thou  didst  take  me,  0  Prophetess,  to  thy  bosom,  and 
thy  cold  kiss  touched  my  lips  and  my  brow;  and  there, 
beside  this  altar  and  grave-mound,  by  leaf  and  by  water, 
by  staff  and  by  song,  thou  didst  bid  me  take  comfort ;  for 
that  as  the  mouse  gnawed  tlie  toils  of  the  lion,  so  the 
exile  obscure  should  deliver  from  peril  the  pride  and  the 
prince  of  my  House,  —  that  from  that  hour  with  the  skein 
of  his  fate  should  mine  be  entwined  ;  and  his  fate  was 
that  of  kings  and  of  kingdoms.  And  then,  when  the  joy 
flushed  my  cheek,  and  methought  youth  came  back  in 
warmth  to  the  night  of  my  soul,  —  then,  Hilda,  I  asked 
thee  if  my  life  would  he  spared  till  I  had  redeemed  the 
name  of  my  father.  Thy  seid-staff  passed  over  the  leaves 
that,  burning  with  fire-sparks,  symbolled  the  life  of  the 
man,  and  from  the  third  leaf  the  flame  leaped  up  and 
died  ;  and  again  a  voice  from  thy  breast,  hollow,  as  if 
borne  from  a  hill-top  afar,  made  answer,  'At  thine 
entrance  to  manhood  life  bursts  into  blaze,  and  shrivels 
up  into  ashes.'  So  I  knew  that  the  doom  of  the  infant 
still  weighed  unannealed  on  the  years  of  the  man  ;  and  I 
come  here  to  my  native  land  as  to  glory  and  the  grave. 
But,"  said  the  young  man,  with  a  wild  enthusiasm, 
"  still  with  mine  links  the  fate  which  is  loftiest  in  Eng- 
land ;  and  the  rill  and  the  river  shall  rush  in  one  to  the 
Terrible  Sea." 

^  Omen. 


124  HAROLD. 

"  I  know  not  that,"  answered  Hilda,  pale,  as  if  in  awe 
of  herself  ;  "  for  never  yet  hath  the  rune,  or  the  fount, 
or  the  tomb,  revealed  to  me,  clear  and  distinct,  the  close 
of  the  great  course  of  Harold;  only  know  I  through  his 
own  stars  his  glory  and  greatness  ;  and  where  glory  is 
dim,  and  greatness  is  menaced,  I  know  it  but  from  the 
stars  of  others,  the  rays  of  whose  influence  blend  with  his 
own.  So  long,  at  least,  as  the  fair  and  the  pure  one 
keeps  watch  in  the  still  House  of  Life,  the  dark  and  the 
troubled  one  cannot  wholly  prevail.  For  Edith  is  given 
to  Harold  as  the  Fylgia,  that  noiselessly  blesses  and  saves  : 
and  thou  —  "  Hilda  checked  herself,  and  lowered  her  hood 
over  her  face,  so  that  it  suddenly  became  invisible. 

"  And  11"  asked  Haco,  moving  near  to  her  side. 

"  Away,  son  of  Sweyn  ;  thy  feet  trample  the  grave  of 
the  mighty  dead  !  " 

Then  Hilda  lingered  no  longer,  but  took  her  way 
towards  the  house.  Haco's  eye  followed  her  in  silence. 
The  cattle  grazing  in  the  great  space  of  the  crumbling 
peristyle,  looked  up  as  she  passed  ;  the  watch-dogs,  wan- 
dering through  the  star-lit  columns,  came  snorting  round 
their  mistress.  And  when  she  had  vanished  within  the 
house,  Haco  turned  to  his  steed,  — 

"  What  matters,"  he  murmured,  "  the  answer  which 
the  Vala  cannot  or  dare  not  give  ?  To  me  is  not  destined 
the  love  of  woman,  nor  the  ambition  of  life.  All  I  know 
of  human  afi"ection  binds  me  to  Harold  ;  all  I  know  of 
human  ambition  is  to  share  in  his  fate.  This  love  is 
strong  as  hate,  and  terrible  as  doom,  —  it  is  jealous,  it 
admits  no  rival.  As  the  shell  and  the  seaweed  intei'laced 
together,  we  are  dashed  on  the  rushing  surge  ;  whither  1  — • 
oh,  whither  ? " 


HAROLD.  125 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"  I  TELL  thee,  Hilda,"  said  the  earl,  impatiently,  —  "I 
tell  thee  that  I  renounce,  henceforth,  all  faith,  save  in 
Him  whose  ways  are  concealed  from  our  eyes.  Thy  seid 
and  thy  galdra  have  not  guarded  me  against  peril,  nor 
armed  me  against  sin.  Nay,  perchance,  —  but  peace  :  I 
will  no  more  tempt  the  dark  ark,  I  will  no  more  seek  to 
disentangle  the  awful  truth  from  the  juggling  lie.  All  so 
foretold  me  I  will  seek  to  forget,  —  hope  from  no  pro- 
phecy, fear  from  no  warning.  Let  the  soul  go  to  the 
future  under  the  shadow  of  God  ! " 

"  Pass  on  thy  way  as  thou  wilt,  its  goal  is  the  same, 
whether  seen  or  unmarked.  Peradventure  thou  art 
wise,"  said  the  Vala,  gloomily. 

"  For  my  country's  sake.  Heaven  be  my  witness,  not 
my  own,"  resumed  the  earl,  "  I  have  blotted  my  con- 
science and  sullied  my  truth.  My  country  alone  can 
redeem  me,  by  taking  my  life  as  a  thing  hallowed  ever- 
more to  her  service.  Selfish  ambition  do  I  lay  aside,  sel- 
fish power  shall  tempt  me  no  more  ;  lost  is  the  charm  that 
I  beheld  in  a  throne,  and,  save  for  Edith  —  " 

"  No  !  not  even  for  Edith,"  cried  the  betrothed,  advanc- 
ing, —  "  not  even  for  Edith  .'^halt  thou  listen  to  other  voice 
than  that  of  thy  country  and  thy  soul." 

The  earl  turned  round  abruptly,  and  his  eyes  were 
moist. 

"  0  Hilda,"  he  cried,  "  see  henceforth  my  only  Vala ; 
let  that  noble  heart  alone  interpret  to  us  the  oracles  of 
the  future.'' 


126  HAROLD. 

The  next  day  Harold  returned  with  Haco  and  a  numer- 
ous train  of  his  house-carles  to  the  city.  Their  ride  was 
as  silent  as  that  of  the  day  before  ;  but  on  reacliing 
Southwark,  Harold  turned  away  from  the  bridge  towards 
the  left,  gained  the  river-side,  and  dismounted  at  the 
house  of  one  of  his  lithsmen  (a  franklin  or  freed  ceorl). 
Leaving  there  his  horse,  he  summoned  a  boat,  and  with 
Haco  was  rowed  over  towards  the  fortified  palace  which 
then  rose  towards  the  west  of  London,  jutting  into  the 
Thames,  and  which  seems  to  have  formed  the  outwork  of 
the  old  Roman  city.  The  palace,  of  remotest  antiquity, 
and  blending  all  work  and  architecture,  Roman,  Saxon, 
and  Danish,  had  been  repaired  by  Canute  ;  and  from  a 
high  Avindow  in  the  upper  story,  where  were  the  royal 
apartments,  the  body  of  the  traitor  Edric  Streone  (the 
founder  of  the  house  of  Godwin)  had  been  thrown  into 
the  river. 

"  "Whither  go  we,  Harold  ? "  asked  the  son  of  Sweyn. 

"  We  go  to  visit  the  young  Atheling,  the  natural  heir 
to  the  Saxon  throne,"  replied  Harold  in  a  firm  voice. 
"  He  lodges  in  the  old  palace  of  our  kings." 

"  They  say  in  i^ormandy  that  the  boy  is  imbecile." 

"  That  is  not  true,"  returned  Harold.  "  I  will  present 
thee  to  him,  — judge." 

Haco  mused  a  moment  and  said, — 

"  Methinks  I  divine  thy  purpose  ;  is  it  not  formed  on 
the  sudden,  Harold  ?  " 

"  It  was  the  counsel  of  Edith,"  answered  Harold,  with 
evident  emotion.  "  And  yet,  if  that  counsel  prevail,  I  may 
lose  the  power  to  soften  the  Church  and  to  call  her  mine." 

"  So  thou  wouldst  sacrifice  even  Edith  for  thy 
country  ? " 

"  Since  I  have  sinned,  methinks  I  could,"  said  the 
proud  man,  humbly. 


HAROLD.  127 

The  boat  shot  into  a  little  creek,  or  rather  canal,  which 
then  ran  inland,  beside  the  black  and  rotting  walls  of  the 
fort.  The  two  earl-born  leaped  ashore,  passed  under  a 
Roman  arch,  entered  a  court,  the  interior  of  which  was 
rudely  filled  up  by  early  Saxon  habitations  of  rough  tim- 
ber-work, already,  since  the  time  of  Canute,  falling  into 
decay  (as  all  things  did  which  came  under  the  care  of 
Edward),  and,  mounting  a  stair  that  ran  along  the  out- 
side of  the  house,  gained  a  low  narrow  door,  which  stood 
open.  In  the  passage  within  were  one  or  two  of  the 
king's  house-carles  who  had  been  assigned  to  the  young 
Atheling,  with  liveries  of  blue  and  Danish  axes,  and  some 
four  or  five  German  servitors,  who  had  attended  his 
father  from  the  emperor's  court.  One  of  these  last 
ushered  the  noble  Saxons  into  a  low,  forlorn  ante-hall  ; 
and  there,  to  Harold's  surprise,  he  found  Aired,  the  Arch- 
bishop of  York,  and  three  thegns  of  high  rank,  and  of 
lineage  ancient  and  purely  Saxon. 

Aired  approached  Harold  with  a  faint  smile  on  his 
benign  face  :  — 

"  Methinks  —  and  may  I  think  aright !  —  thou  comest 
hither  with  the  same  purpose  as  myself  and  yon  noble 
thegns." 

"  And  that  purpose  ? " 

"  Is  to  see  and  to  judge  calmly,  if,  despite  his  years,  we 
may  find  in  the  descendant  of  the  Ironsides  such  a  prince 
as  we  may  commend  to  our  decaying  king  as  his  heir,  and 
to  the  Witan  as  a  chief  fit  to  defend  the  land." 

"  Thou  speakest  the  cause  of  my  own  coming.  With 
your  ears  will  I  hear,  with  your  eyes  will  I  see,  as  ye 
judge  will  judge  I,"  said  Harold,  drawing  the  prelate 
towards  the  thegns,  so  that  they  might  hear  his  answer. 

The  chiefs,  who  belonged  to  a  party  that  had  often 
opposed  Godwin's   house,    had   exchanged  looks  of   fear 


128 


HAROLD. 


and  trouble  when  Harold  entered  ;  but  at  his  words  their 
frank  faces  sliowed  equtd  surprise  and  pleasure. 

Harold  presented  to  them  his  nephew,  with  whose 
grave  dignity  of  bearing  beyond  his  years  they  were 
favorably  impressed,  though  the  good  bishop  sighed 
when  he  saw  in  his  face  the  sombre  beauty  of  the  guilty 
sire.  The  group  then  conversed  anxiously  on  the  declin- 
ing health  of  the  king,  the  disturbed  state  of  the  realm, 
and  the  expediency,  if  possible,  of  uniting  all  suifrages  in 
favor  of  the  fittest  successor.  And  in  Harold's  voice  and 
manner,  as  in  Harold's  heart,  there  was  nought  that 
seemed  conscious  of  his  own  mighty  stake  and  just  hopes 
in  that  election.  But  as  time  wore,  the  faces  of  the 
thegns  grew  overcast ;  proud  men  and  great  satraps  ^  were 
they,  and  they  liked  it  ill  that  the  boy-prince  kept  them 
so  long  in  the  dismal  anteroom. 

At  length  the  German  officer  who  had  gone  to  announce 
their  coming  returned,  and,  in  words  intelligible  indeed 
from  the  affinity  between  Saxon  and  German,  but  still 
disagreeably  foreign  to  English  ears,  requested  them  to 
follow  him  into  the  presence  of  the  Atheling. 

In  a  room  yet  retaining  the  rude  splendor  with  which 
it  had  been  invested  by  Canute,  a  handsome  boy,  about 
the  age  of  thirteen  or  fourteen,  but  seeming  much  younger, 
was  engaged  in  the  construction  of  a  stuffed  bird,  a  lure 
for  a  young  hawk  that  stood  blindfold  on  its  perch.  The 
employment  made  so  habitual  a  part  of  the  serious  educa- 
tion of  youth,  that  the  thegns  smootlied  their  brows  at 
the  sight,  and  deemed  the  boy  worthily  occupied.  At 
another  end  of  the  room  a  grave  ^Norman  priest  was  seated 

1  The  Eastern  word  Satraps  (Satrapes)  made  one  of  the  ordinary 
and  most  inappropriate  titles  (borrowed,  no  donbt,  from  the  By- 
zantine Court)  by  which  the  Saxons,  iu  their  Latinity,  honored 
their  simple  nobles. 


HAROLD.  129 

at  a  table,  on  which  were  books  and  writing  implements ; 
he  was  the  tutor  commissioned  by  Edward  to  teach 
Norman  tongue  and  saintly  lore  to  the  Atheling.  A  pro- 
fusion of  toys  strewed  the  floor,  and  some  children  of 
Edgar's  own  age  were  playing  with  them.  His  little 
sister  Margaret  ^  was  seated  sei'iously,  apart  from  all  the 
other  children,  and  employed  in  needlework. 

When  Aired  approached  the  Atheling,  with  a  blending 
of  reverent  obeisance  and  paternal  cordiality,  the  boy 
carelessly  cried,  in  a  barbarous  jargon,  half  German,  half 
Norman-French,  — 

"  There,  come  not  too  near,  you  scare  my  hawk.  What 
are  you  doing  1  You  trample  my  toys,  which  the  good 
Norman  bishop  William  sent  me  as  a  gift  from  the  duke. 
Art  thou  blind,  man  1" 

"My  son,"  said  the  prelate,  kindly,  "these  are  the 
things  of  childhood,  —  childhood  ends  sooner  with  princes 
than  with  common  men.  Leave  thy  lure  and  thy  toys, 
and  welcome  these  noble  thegns,  and  address  them,  so 
please  you,  in  our   own  Saxon  tongue." 

"  Saxon  tongue  !  — language  of  villeins  !  not  I.  Little 
do  I  know  of  it,  save  to  scold  a  ceorl  or  a  nurse.  King 
Edward  did  not  tell  me  to  learn  Saxon,  but  Norman  !  and 
Godfroi  yonder  says  that  if  I  know  Norman  well,  Duke 
William  will  make  me  his  knight.  But  I  don't  desire  to 
learn  anything  more  to-day."  And  the  child  turned 
peevishly  from  thegn  and  prelate. 

The  three  Saxon  lords  interclianged  looks  of  profound 
displeasure  and  proud  disgust.  But  Harold,  with  an 
effort  over  himself,  approached,  and  said,  winningly,  — 

"  Edgar  the  Atheling,  thou  art  not  so  young  but  thou 

1  Afterwards  married  to  Malcolm  of  Scotland,  through  whom, 
by  the  female  line,  the  present  royal  dynasty  of  England  assumes 
descent  from  the  Anglo-Saxon  kings. 

VOL.  II.  —  9 


130  HAROJiD. 

knowest  already  that  the  great  live  for  others.  Wilt 
thou  not  be  proud  to  live  for  this  fair  country  and  these 
noble  men,  and  to  speak  the  language  of  Alfred  the 
Great?" 

"Alfred  the  Great!  they  always  weary  me  with  Alfred 
the  Great,"  said  the  boy,  pouting.  "  Alfred  the  Great,  — • 
he  is  the  plague  of  my  life  !  If  I  am  Atheling,  men  are 
to  live  for  me,  not  I  for  them  ;  and  if  you  tease  me  any 
more,  I  will  run  away  to  Duke  William,  in  Rouen ; 
Godfroi  says  I  shall  never  be  teased  there  ! " 

So  saying,  already  tired  of  hawk  and  lure,  the  child 
threw  himself  on  the  floor  with  the  other  children,  and 
snatched  the  toys  from  their  hands. 

The  serious  Margaret  then  rose  quietly,  and  went  to 
her  brother,  and  said,  in  good  Saxon,  — 

"  Fie  !  if  you  behave  thus,  I  shall  call  you  niddering  !  " 

At  the  threat  of  that  word,  the  vilest  in  the  language  : 
that  word  which  the  lowest  ceorl  would  forfeit  life  rather 
than  endure,  —  a  threat  applied  to  the  Atheling  of  Eng- 
land, the  descendant  of  Saxon  heroes,  —  the  three  thegns 
drew  close,  and  watched  the  boy,  hoping  to  see  that  he 
would  start  to  his  feet  with  wrath  and  shame. 

"Call  me  what  you  will,  silly  sister,"  said  the  child, 
indifferently ;  "  I  am  not  so  Saxon  as  to  care  for  your 
ceorlish  Saxon  names." 

"  Enow,"  cried  the  proudest  and  greatest  of  the  thegns, 
his  very  mustache  curling  with  ire.  "  He  who  can  be 
called  niddering  shall  never  be  crowned  king  !  " 

"  I  don't  want  to  be  crowned  king,  rude  man,  with 
your  laidly  mustache  ;  I  want  to  be  made  knight,  and 
have  a  banderol  and  baldric.     Go  away  !  " 

"  We  go,  son,"  said  Aired,  mournfully. 

And,  with  slow  and  tottering  step,  he  moved  to  the 
door ;  there  he  halted,  turned  back,  —  and  the  child  was 


HAROLD.  131 

pointing  at  him  in  mimicry,  while  Godfroi,  tlie  Xorman 
tutor,  smiled  as  in  pleasure.  The  prelate  shook  his  head, 
and  the  group  gained  again  the  ante-hall. 

*'  Fit  leader  of  bearded  men  !  fit  king  for  the  Saxon 
land  !  "  cried  a  thegn.  "  No  more  of  your  Atheling, 
Aired  my  father  !  " 

"  No  more  of  him,  indeed  !  "  said  the  prelate,  mourn- 
fully. 

"  It  is  but  the  fault  of  his  nurture  and  rearing,  —  a 
neglected  childhood,  a  Norman  tutor,  German  hirelings. 
We  may  remould  yet  the  pliant  clay,"  said  Harold. 

"  Nay,"  returned  Aired,  "  no  leisure  for  such  hopes,  no 
time  to  undo  Avhat  is  done  by  circumstance,  and,  I  fear, 
by  nature.  Ere  the  year  is  out  the  throne  will  stand 
empty  in  our  halls." 

"Who,  then,"  said  Haco,  abruptly —  "  who  then  (par- 
don the  ignorance  of  youth  wasted  in  captivity  abroad  !) 
—  who  then,  failing  the  Atheling,  will  save  this  realm 
from  the  Norman  duke,  who,  I  know  well,  counts  on  it  as 
the  reaper  on  the  harvest  ripening  to  his  sickle  ] " 

"  Alas,  who  then  1 "  murmured  Aired. 

"  Who  then  ?  "  cried  the  three  thegns,  with  one  voice  ; 
"  why,  the  worthiest,  the  wisest,  the  bravest !  Stand 
forth,  Harold  the  Earl,  Thou  art  the  man  !  "  And,  with- 
out waiting  his  answer,  they  strode  from  the  hall. 


132  HAROLD. 


CHAPTEE  V. 

Around  N'orthauipton  lay  the  forces  of  Morcar,  the  choice 
of  tlie  Anglo-Dane  men  of  Nortlmmbria.  Suddenly 
there  was  a  shout  as  to  arms  from  the  encampment ;  and 
Morcar,  the  young  earl,  clad  in  his  link  mail,  save  his 
helmet,  came  forth,  and  cried,  — 

"  My  men  are  fools  to  look  that  way  for  a  foe  ;  yonder 
lies  Mercia,  behind  it  the  hills  of  Wales.  The  troops  that 
come  hitherward  are  those  which  Edwin  my  brother  brings 
to  our  aid." 

Morcar's  words  were  carried  into  the  host  by  his 
captains  and  warbodes,  and  the  shout  changed  from  alarm 
into  joy.  As  the  cloud  of  dust,  through  whicli  gleamed 
the  spears  of  the  coming  force,  rolled  away,  and  lay  lagging 
behind  the  march  of  the  host,  there  rode  forth  from  the 
van  two  riders.  Fast  and  far  from  the  rest  they  rode,  and 
behind  them,  fast  as  they  could,  spurred  two  others,  who 
bore  on  high,  one  the  peimon  of  Mercia,  one  the  red  lion 
of  North  Wales.  Right  to  the  embankment  and  palisade 
which  begirt  Morcar's  camp  rode  the  riders ;  and  the  head 
of  the  foremost  was  bare,  and  the  guards  knew  the  face  of 
Edwin  tlie  Comely,  Morcar's  brother.  Morcar  stepped 
down  from  the  mound  on  which  he  stood,  and  the  brothers 
embraced,  amidst  the  halloos  of  the  forces. 

"  And  welcome,  I  pray  thee,"  said  Morcar,  "  our  kins- 
man, Caradoc,  son  of  Gryffyth  ^  the  bold." 

1  By  liis  first  wife ;  Aldj^th  was  his  second. 


HAROLD.  133 

So  Morcar  reached  his  hand  to  Caradoc,  stepson  to  his 
sister  Aldyth,  and  kissed  him  on  the  brow,  as  was  the 
wont  of  our  fathers.  The  young  and  crownless  prince 
was  scarce  out  of  boyhood,  but  already  his  name  was  sung 
by  the  bards,  and  circled  in  the  halls  of  Gwynedd  with 
the  Hirlas  horn ;  for  he  had  harried  the  Saxon  borders,  and 
given  to  fire  and  sword  even  the  fortress  of  Harold 
himself. 

But  while  these  three  interchanged  salutations,  and  ere 
yet  the  mixed  Mercians  and  Welsh  had  gained  the  encamp- 
ment, from  a  curve  in  the  opposite  road,  towards  Towcester 
and  Dunstable,  broke  the  flash  of  mail  like  a  river  of 
light,  trumpets  and  fifes  were  heard  in  the  distance ; 
and  all  in  Morcar's  host  stood  hushed,  but  stern,  gazing 
anxious  and  afar,  as  the  coming  armament  swept  on.  And 
from  the  midst  were  seen  the  Martlets  and  Cross  of 
England's  king,  and  the  Tiger  heads  of  Harold ;  banners 
which,  seen  together,  had  planted  victory  on  every  tower, 
on  every  field,  towards  which  they  had  rushed  on  the 
winds. 

Retiring,  then,  to  the  central  mound,  the  chiefs  of  the 
insurgent  force  held  their  brief  council. 

The  two  young  earls,  whatever  their  ancestral  renown, 
being  yet  new  themselves  to  fame  and  to  power,  were 
submissive  to  the  Anglo-Dane  chiefs,  by  whom  Morcar 
had  been  elected.  And  these,  on  recognizing  the  standard 
of  Harold,  were  unanimous  in  advice  to  send  a  peaceful 
deputation,  setting  forth  their  wrongs  under  Tostig,  and 
the  justice  of  their  cause.  "For  the  earl,"  said  Gamel 
Beorn  (the  head  and  front  of  that  revolution),  "is  a  just 
man,  and  one  who  would  shed  his  own  blood  rather  than 
that  of  any  other  free-born  dweller  in  England  ;  and  he 
will  do  us  right." 

"  What !  against  his  own  brother'?  "  cried  Edwin. 


134  HAROLD. 

"  Against  liis  own  brother,  if  we  convince  but  liis  rea- 
son," returned  the  Anglo-Dane. 

And  the  other  chiefs  nodded  assent.  Caradoc's  fierce  eyes 
flashed  fire  ;  but  he  played  with  his  torque,  and  spoke  not. 

Meanwhile  the  vanguard  of  the  king's  force  had  defiled 
under  the  very  walls  of  Northampton,  between  the  town 
and  the  insurgents  ;  and  some  of  the  light-armed  scouts 
who  went  forth  from  ]\Iorcar's  camp  to  gaze  on  the  proces- 
sion, with  that  singular  fearlessness  which  characterized,  at 
that  period,  the  rival  parties  in  civil  war,  returned  to  say 
that  they  had  seen  Harold  himself  in  the  foremost  line, 
and  that  he  was  not  in  mail. 

This  circumstance  the  insurgent  thegns  received  as  a 
good  omen  ;  and,  having  already  agreed  on  the  deputation, 
about  a  score  of  the  principal  thegns  of  the  north  went 
sedately  towards  the  hostile  lines. 

By  the  side  of  Harold — armed  in  mail,  with  his  face 
concealed  by  the  strange  Sicilian  nose-piece,  used  tlien 
by  most  of  the  Northern  nations  —  had  ridden  Tostig, 
who  had  joined  the  earl  on  his  march,  with  a  scanty  band 
of  some  fifty  or  sixty  of  his  Danish  house-carles.  All  the 
men  throughout  broad  England  that  he  could  command  or 
bribe  to  his  cause  were  those  fifty  or  sixty  hireling  Danes. 
And  it  seemed  that  already  tliere  was  dispute  between 
the  brothers,  for  Harold's  face  was  flushed,  and  his  voice 
stern,  as  he  said,  "  Rate  me  as  thou  wilt,  brother,  but  I 
cannot  advance  at  once  to  the  destruction  of  my  fellow- 
Englishmen  without  summons  and  attempt  at  treaty,  — 
as  has  ever  been  the  custom  of  our  ancient  heroes  and  our 
own  House." 

"  By  all  the  fiends  of  the  North,"  exclaimed  Tostig, 
"  it  is  foul  shame  to  talk  of  treaty  and  summons  to  robbers 
and  rebels.  For  what  art  thou  here  but  for  chastisement 
and  revenge  1 " 


HAROLD.  135 

"  For  justice  and  right,  Tostig." 

"  Ha  !  thou  comest  not,  then,  to  aid  tliy  brother  1 " 

"  Yes,  if  justice  and  right  are,  as  I  trust,  with  him." 

Before  Tostig  could  reply,  a  line  was  suddenly  cleared 
through  the  armed  men,  and,  with  bare  heads,  and  a  monk 
lifting  the  rood  on  high  amidst  the  procession,  advanced 
the  Northumbrian  Danes. 

"  By  the  red  sword  of  St.  Olave  !  "  cried  Tostig, 
"  yonder  come  the  traitors,  Gamel  Beorn  and  Gloneion ! 
You  will  not  hear  them  1  If  so,  I  will  not  stay  to  listen. 
I  have  but  my  axe  for  my  answer  to  such  knaves." 

"  Brother,  brother !  those  men  are  the  most  valiant 
and  famous  chiefs  in  thine  earldom.  Go,  Tostig,  thou  art 
not  now  in  the  mood  to  hear  reason.  Retire  into  the  city  ; 
summon  its  gates  to  open  to  the  king's  flag.  I  will  hear 
the  men." 

"  Beware  how  thou  judge,  save  in  thy  brother's  favor  !  " 
growled  the  fierce  warrior ;  and,  tossing  his  arm  on  high 
with  a  contemptuous  gesture,  he  spurred  away  towards  the 
gates. 

Then  Harold,  dismounting,  stood  on  the  ground,  under 
the  standard  of  his  king,  and  round  him  came  several 
of  the  Saxon  chiefs,  who  had  kept  aloof  during  the 
conference  with  Tostig. 

The  Northumbrians  approached,  and  saluted  the  earl 
with  grave  courtesy. 

Then  Gamel  Beorn  began.  But  much  as  Harold  had 
feared  and  foreboded  as  to  the  causes  of  complaint  which 
Tostig  had  given  to  the  Northumbrians,  all  fear,  all 
foreboding,  fell  short  of  the  horrors  now  deliberately 
unfolded  ;  not  only  extortion  of  tribute  the  most  rapa- 
cious and  illegal,  but  murder  the  fiercest  and  most  foul. 
Thegns  of  high  birth,  without  offence  or  suspicion,  but 
who  had   either  excited  Tostig's  jealousy  or  resisted   hia 


136  HAROLD. 

exactions,  had  been  snared  under  peaceful  pretests  into 
his  castle,^  and  butchered  in  cold  blood  by  his  house-carles. 
The  cruelties  of  the  old  heathen  Danes  seemed  revived  iu 
the  bloody  and  barbarous  tale. 

"  And  now,"  said  the  thegn,  in  conclusion,  "  canst  thou 
condemn  us  that  we  rose  1  —  no  partial  rising  •  —  rose  all 
Northumbria  !  At  first  but  two  hundred  thegns  ;  strong 
in  our  cause,  we  swelled  into  the  might  of  a  people.  Our 
wrongs  found  sympathy  beyond  our  province,  for  liberty 
spreads  over  human  hearts  as  fire  over  a  heath.  Wherever 
"we  march,  friends  gather  round  us.  Thou  warrest  not  on 
a  handful  of  rebels,  —  half  England  is  with  us  !  " 

"  And  ye,  thegns,"  answered  Harold,  "  ye  have  ceased 
to  war  against  Tostig  your  earl.  Ye  war  now  against  the 
king  and  the  Law.  Come  with  your  complaints  to  your 
prince  and  your  Witan,  and,  if  they  are  just,  ye  are 
stronger  than  in  yonder  palisades  and  streets  of  steel." 

"  And  so,"  said  Gamel  Beorn,  with  marked  emphasis, 
"  now  thou  art  in  England,  0  noble  earl,  —  so  are  we 
■willing  to  come.  But  when  thou  wert  absent  from  the 
land,  justice  seemed  to  abandon  it  to  force  and  the 
battle-axe." 

"  I  would  thank  you  for  your  trust,"  answered  Harold, 
deeply  moved.  "  But  justice  in  England  rests  not  on 
the  presence  and  life  of  a  single  man.  And  your  speech 
I  must  not  accept  as  a  grace,  for  it  wrongs  both  my  king 
and  his  council.  These  charges  ye  have  made,  but  ye 
have  not  proved  them.  Armed  men  are  not  proofs;  and 
granting  that  hot  blood  and  mortal  infirmity  of  judg- 
ment have  caused  Tostig  to  err  against  you  and  the  right, 
think  still  of  his  qualities  to  reign  over  men  whose  lands, 
and  whose  rivers,  lie  ever  exposed  to  the  dread  Northern 
sea-kings.     Where  will  ye  find  a  chief  with  arm  as  strong 

1  Flor  Wig. 


HAROLD.  137 

and  heart  as  dauntless  ?  By  his  mother's  side  he  is  allied 
to  your  own  lineage.  And  for  the  rest,  if  ye  receive  him 
back  to  his  earldom,  not  only  do  I,  Harold,  in  whom  you 
profess  to  trust,  pledge  full  oblivion  of  the  past,  but  I 
will  undertake,  in  his  name,  that  he  shall  rule  you  well 
for  the  future,  according  to  the  laws  of  King  Canute." 

"  That  will  we  not  hear,"  cried  the  thegns,  with  one 
voice  ;  while  the  tones  of  Gamel  Beorn,  rough  with  the 
rattling  Danish  burr,  rose  above  all,  ''  for  we  were  born 
free.  A  proud  and  bad  chief  is  by  us  not  to  be  endured  ; 
we  have  learned  from  our  ancestors  to  live  free  or  die  !  " 

A  murmur,  not  of  condemnation,  at  these  words,  was 
heard  amongst  the  Saxon  chiefs  round  Harold  ;  and 
beloved  and  revered  as  he  was,  he  felt  that,  had  he  the 
heart,  he  had  scarce  the  power,  to  have  coerced  those 
warriors  to  march  at  once  on  their  countrymen  in  such  a 
cause.  But  foreseeing  great  evil  in  the  surrender  of  his 
brother's  interests,  whether  by  lowering  the  king's  dignity 
to  the  demands  of  armed  force,  or  sending  abroad  in  all 
his  fierce  passions  a  man  so  highly  connected  with 
Norman  and  Dane,  so  vindictive  and  so  grasping,  as 
Tostig,  the  earl  shunned  further  parley  at  tliat  time  and 
place.  He  appointed  a  meeting  in  the  town  with  the 
chiefs ;  and  requested  them,  meanwhile,  to  reconsider 
their  demands,  and  at  least  shape  them  so  as  that  they 
could  be  transmitted  to  the  king,  who  was  then  on  his  way 
to  Oxford. 

It  is  in  vain  to  describe  the  rage  of  Tostig  when  his 
brother  gravely  repeated  to  him  the  accusations  against 
him,  and  asked  for  his  justification.  Justification  he 
could  not  give.  His  idea  of  law  was  but  force,  and  by 
force  alone  he  demanded  now  to  be  defended.  Harold, 
then,  wishing  not  alone  to  be  judge  in  his  brother's 
cause,  referred  further  discussion   to    the    chiefs    of  the 


138  HAROLD. 

various  towns  and  shires,  whose  troops  had  swelled  the 
War-Fyrd  ,  and  to  them  he  bade  Tostig  plead  his  cause. 

Vain  as  a  woman,  while  fierce  as  a  tiger,  Tostig 
assented,  and  in  that  assembly  he  rose,  his  gonna  all 
blazing  with  crimson  and  gold,  his  hair  all  curled  and 
perfumed  as  for  a  banquet  ;  and  such,  in  a  half-barbarous 
day,  the  eft'ect  of  person,  especially  when  backed  by  war- 
like renown,  that  the  Proceres  were  half-disposed  to 
forget,  in  admiration  of  the  earl's  surpassing  beauty  of 
form,  the  dark  tales  of  his  hideous  guilt.  But  his  pas- 
sions hurrying  him  away  ere  he  had  gained  the  middle  of 
his  discourse,  so  did  his  own  relation  condemn  himself; 
so  clear  became  his  own  tyrannous  misdeeds,  that  the 
Englishmen  murmured  aloud  their  disgust,  and  their  impa- 
tience would  not  suffer  him  to  close. 

"  Enough,"  cried  Vebba,  the  blunt  thegn  from  Saxon 
Kent;  "it  is  plain  that  neither  king  nor  Witan  can 
replace  thee  in  thine  earldom.  Tell  us  not  farther  of 
these  atrocities  ;  or,  by  'r  Lady,  if  the  Northumbrians 
had   chased  tliee   not,  we  would." 

"Take  treasure  and  ship,  and  go  to  Baldwin  in 
Flanders,"  said  Thorold,  a  great  Anglo-Dane  from 
Lincolnshire,  "  for  even  Harold's  name  can  scarce  save 
thee    from    outlawry." 

Tostig  glared  round  on  the  assembly,  and  met  but  one 
common  expression  in  the  face  of  all. 

"These  are  thy  henchmen,  Harold  !  "  he  said  through 
his  gnashing  teeth  ;  and,  without  vouchsafing  farther 
word,  strode  from  the  council-hall. 

That  evening  he  left  the  town,  and  hurried  to  tell  to 
Edward  the  tale  that  had  so  miscarried  with  the  chiefs. 
The  next  day  the  Northumbrian  delegates  were  heard ; 
and  they  made  the  customary  proposition  in  those  cases 
of  civil   differences,    to   refer   all    matters   to   the    king 


HAROLD.  139 

and    the    Witan  —  each   party   remaining    under   arms 
meanwhile. 

This  was  finally  acceded  to.  Harold  repaired  to  Oxford, 
where  the  king  (persuaded  to  the  journey  by  Aired, 
foreseeing  what  would  come  to  pass)  had  just  arrived. 


140  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  Witen  was  summoned  in  haste.  Thither  came  the 
young  earls  Morcar  and  Edwin,  but  Caradoc,  chating  at 
the  thouglit  of  peace,  retired  into  Wales  with  his  wild 
band. 

Now,  all  the  great  chiefs,  spiritual  and  temporal, 
assembled  in  Oxford  for  the  decree  of  that  Witan  on 
which  depended  the  peace  of  England.  The  imminence 
of  the  time  made  the  concourse  of  members  entitled  to 
vote  in  the  assembly  even  larger  than  that  which  had 
met  for  the  inlawry  of  Godwin.  There  was  but  one 
thought  uppermost  in  the  minds  of  men,  to  which  the 
adjustment  of  an  earldom,  however  mighty,  was  compar- 
atively insignificant,  —  namely,  the  succession  of  the 
kingdom.  That  thought  turned  instinctively  and  irresist- 
ibly to  Harold. 

The  evident  and  rapid  decay  of  the  king;  the  utter 
failure  of  all  male  heirs  in  the  House  of  Cerdic,  save 
only  the  boy  Edgar,  whose  character  (which  through- 
out life  remained  puerile  and  frivolous)  made  the  minority 
which  excluded  him  from  the  throne  seem  cause  rather 
for  rejoicing  than  grief,  and  whose  rights,  even  by  birth, 
were  not  acknowledged  by  the  general  tenor  of  the  Saxon 
laws,  which  did  not  recognize  as  heir  to  the  crown  the 
son  of  a  father  who   had   not   himself  been    crowned  ;  ^ 

1  This  truth  has  been  overlooked  by  writers,  who  have  main- 
taiued  the  Atheliug's  right  as  if  incontestable.  "  An  opinion  pre- 
vailed," says  Palgrave,  "  Eng.  Commouwealth,"  pp.  559,  560,  "  that 


HAROLD.  141 

forebodings  of  coming  evil  and  danger,  originating  in 
Edward's  perturbed  visions ;  revivals  of  obscure  and  till 
then  forgotten  prophecies,  ancient  as  the  days  of  Merlin  ; 
rumors,  industriously  fomented  into  certainty  by  Haco, 
whose  whole  soul  seemed  devoted  to  Harold's  cause,  of 
the  intended  claim  of  the  Norman  count  to  the  throne  ;  — 
all  concurred  to  make  the  election  of  a  man  matured  in 
camp  and  council  doubly  necessary  to  the  safety  of  the 
realm. 

Warm  favorers,  naturally,  of  Harold,  were  the  genuine 
Saxon  population,  and  a  large  part  of  the  Anglo-Danish, 
—  all  the  thegns  in  his  vast  earldom  of  Wessex,  reaching 
to  the  southern  and  western  coasts,  from  Sandwich  and 
the  mouth  of  the  Thames  to  the  Land's  End  in  Cornwall ; 
and  including  the  free  men  of  Kent,  whose  inhabitants 
even  from  tlie  days  of  Csesar  had  been  considered  in 
advance  of  the  rest  of  the  British  population,  and  from 
the  days  of  Hengist  had  exercised  an  influence  that  noth- 
ing save  the  warlike  might  of  the  Anglo-Danes  counter- 
balanced. With  Harold,  too,  were  many  of  the  thegns 
from  his  earlier  earldom  of  East  Anglia,  comprising  the 
county  of  Essex,  great  part  of  Hertfordsliire,  and  so 
reaching  into  Cambridge,  Huntingdon,  Norfolk,  and  Ely. 
With  him  were  all  the  wealth,  intelligence,  and  power  of 
London,  and  most  of  the  trading  towns  ;  with  him  all  the 
veterans  of  the  armies  he  had  led;  with  him,  too,  gener- 
ally throughout  the  empire,  was  the  force,  less  distinctly 
demarked,  of  public  and  national  feeling. 

Even  tlie    priests,   save   those  immediately   about    the 

if  the  Atheling  was  born  before  his  father  and  mother  were  or- 
dained to  the  royal  dignity,  the  crown  did  not  descend  to  the  child 
of  uncrowned  ancestors."  Our  great  legal  historian  quotes  Ead- 
mer,  "  De  Vit.  Sauct.  Dunstan,"  p.  220,  for  the  objection  made  to 
the  succession  of  Edward  the  Martyr  on  this  score. 


142  HAROLD. 

court,  forgot  in  the  exigency  of  the  time  their  ancient 
and  deep-rooted  dislike  to  Godwin's  House  ;  they  remem- 
bered, at  least,  that  Harold  had  never  in  foray  or  feud 
plundered  a  single  convent ;  or  in  peace,  and  through  plot, 
appropriated  to  himself  a  single  hyde  of  Church  land  : 
and  that  was  more  than  could  have  been  said  of  any  other 
earl  of  the  age,  — even  of  Leofric  the  Holy.  They  caught, 
as  a  Church  must  do,  vvhen  so  intimately,  even  in  its 
illiterate  errors,  allied  with  the  people  as  the  old  Saxon 
Church  was,  the  popular  enthusiasm.  Abbot  combined 
with  thegn  in  zeal  for  Earl  Harold. 

The  only  party  that  stood  aloof  was  the  one  that  es- 
poused the  claims  of  the  young  sons  of  Algar.  But  this 
party  was  indeed  most  formidable  ;  it  united  all  the  old 
friends  of  the  virtuous  Leofric,  of  the  famous  Siward  ;  it 
had  a  numerous  party  even  in  East  Anglia  (in  whicli 
earldom  Algar  had  succeeded  Harold)  ;  it  comprised 
nearly  all  the  thegns  in  Mercia  (the  heart  of  the  country), 
and  the  population  of  Northumbria ;  and  it  involved  in 
its  wide  range  the  terrible  Welsh  on  the  one  hand,  and 
the  Scottish  domain  of  the  sub-king  Malcolm,  himself  a 
Cumbrian,  on  the  other,  despite  Malcolm's  personal  predi- 
lections for  Tostig,  to  whom  he  was  strongly  attached. 
Eut  then  the  chiefs  of  this  party,  while  at  present  they 
stood  aloof,  were  all,  with  the  exception  perhaps  of  the 
young  earls  themselves,  disposed,  on  the  sliglitest  en- 
couragement, to  blend  their  suffrage  with  the  friends  of 
Harold ;  and  his  praise  was  as  loud  on  their  lips  as  on 
those  of  the  Saxons  from  Kent,  or  the  hurghers  from  Lon- 
don. All  factions,  in  short,  were  willing,  in  this  momen- 
tous crisis,  to  lay  aside  old  dissensions  ;  it  depended  upon 
the  conciliation  of  the  iN^orthumbrians,  upon  a  fusion 
between  the  friends  of  Harold  and  the  supporters  of  the 
young   sons   of   Algar,    to    form    such    a   concurrence   of 


HAROLD.  143 

interests  as  must  inevitably  bear  Harold  to  the  throne  of 
the  empire. 

Meanwhile,  the  earl  himself  wisely  and  patriotically 
deemed  it  right  to  remain  neuter  in  the  approaching 
decision  between  Tostig  and  the  young  earls.  He  could 
not  be  so  unjust  and  so  mad  as  to  urge  to  the  utmost 
(and  risk  in  the  urging)  his  part}''  influence  on  the  side 
of  oppression  and  injustice,  solely  for  the  sake  of  his 
brother ;  nor,  on  the  other,  was  it  decorous  or  natural  to 
take  part  himself  against  Tostig ;  nor  could  he,  as  a 
statesman,  contemplate  without  anxiety  and  alarm  the 
transfer  of  so  large  a  portion  of  the  realm  to  the  vice- 
kingship  of  the  sons  of  his  old  foe,  —  rivals  to  his  power, 
at  the  very  time  when,  even  for  the  sake  of  England 
alone,  that  power  should  be  the  most  solid  and  compact. 

But  the  final  greatness  of  a  fortunate  man  is  rarely 
made  by  any  violent  effort  of  his  own.  He  has  sown  the 
seeds  in  the  time  foregone,  and  the  ripe  time  brings  up  the 
harvest.  His  fate  seems  takeu  out  of  his  own  control ; 
greatness  seems  thrust  upon  him.  He  has  made  himself, 
as  it  were,  a  want  to  the  nation,  a  thing  necessary  to  it ; 
he  has  identified  himself  with  his  age,  and  in  the  wreath 
or  the  crown  on  his  brow  the  age  itself  seems  to  put  forth 
his  flower. 

Tostig,  lodging  apart  from  Harold  in  a  fort  near  the 
gate  of  Oxford,  took  slight  pains  to  conciliate  foes  or  make 
friends ;  trusting  rather  to  his  representations  to  Edward 
(who  was  wroth  with  the  rebellious  House  of  Algar),  of 
the  danger  of  compromising  the  royal  dignity  by  conces- 
sions to  armed  insurgents. 

It  was  but  three  days  before  that  for  which  the  Witan 
was  summoned  :  most  of  its  members  had  already  assem- 
bled in  the  city  ;  and  Harold,  from  the  window  of  the 
monastery  in  which  he  lodged,  was  gazing  thoughtfully 


144  HAROLD. 

into  the  streets  below,  where,  with  the  gay  dresses  of  the 
thegns  and  cnehts,  blended  the  grave  robes  of  ecclesiastic 
and  youthful  scholar  —  for  to  that  illustrious  university 
(pillaged  and  persecuted  by  the  sons  of  Canute),  Edward 
had,  to  his  honor,  restored  the  schools  —  when  Haco 
entered,  and  announced  to  him  that  a  numerous  body  of 
thegns  and  prelates,  headed  by  Aired,  archbishop  of  York, 
craved  an  audience. 

"  Knowest  thou  the  cause,  Haco  1 " 

The  youth's  cheek  was  yet  more  pale  than  usual,  as  he 
answered  slowly,  — 

"  Hilda's  prophecies  are  ripening  into  truths." 

The  earl  started,  and  his  old  ambition  reviving,  flushed 
on  his  brow,  and  sparkled  from  his  eye  :  he  checked  the 
joyous  emotion,  and  bade  Haco  briefly  admit  the  visitors. 

They  came  in,  two  by  two,  —  a  body  so  numerous 
that  they  filled  the  ample  chamber  ;  and  Harold,  as  he 
greeted  each,  beheld  the  most  powerful  lords  of  the  land, 
the  highest  dignitaries  of  the  Church,  —  and,  oft  and  fre- 
quent, came  old  foe  by  the  side  of  trusty  friend.  They 
all  paused  at  the  foot  of  the  narrow  dais  on  which  Harold 
stood,  and  Aired  repelled  by  a  gesture  his  invitation  to 
the  foremost  to  mount  the  platform. 

Then  Aired  began  a  harangue,  simple  and  earnest.  He 
described  briefly  the  condition  of  the  country ;  touched 
with  grief  and  with  feeling  on  the  health  of  the  king,  and 
the  failure  of  Cerdic's  line.  He  stated  honestly  his  own 
strong  wish,  if  possible,  to  have  concentrated  the  popular 
suffrages  on  the  young  Atheling,  and,  under  the  emer- 
gence of  the  case,  to  have  waived  the  objection  to  his 
immature  years.  But  as  distinctly  and  emphatically  he 
stated,  that  that  hope  and  intent  he  had  now  formally 
abandoned,  and  that  there  was  but  one  sentiment  on  tlie 
subject  with  all  the  chiefs  and  dignitaries  of  the  realm. 


HAROLD.  145 

"  Wherefore,"  continued  he,  "  after  anxious  consulta- 
tions with  each  other,  those  whom  you  see  around  have 
come  to  you  :  yea,  to  you.  Earl  Harold,  we  offer  our 
hands  and  hearts  to  do  our  best  to  prepare  for  you  the 
throne  on  the  demise  of  Edward,  and  to  seat  you  thereon 
as  firmly  as  ever  sat  King  of  England  and  son  of  Cerdic  ; 
• —  knowing  that  in  you,  and  in  you  alone,  we  find  the 
man  who  reigns  already  in  the  English  heart ;  to  whose 
strong  arm  we  can  trust  the  defence  of  our  land ;  to  whose 
just  thoughts,  our  laws.  —  As  I  speak,  so  think  we  all !  " 

With  downcast  eyes  Harold  heard ;  and  but  by  a 
slight  heaving  of  his  breast  under  his  crimson  robe  could 
his  emotion  be  seen.  But  as  soon  as  the  approving  mur- 
mur that  succeeded  the  prelate's  speech  had  closed,  he 
lifted  his  head,  and  answered, — 

"  Holy  father,  and  you,  Right  Worthy  my  fellow-thegns, 
if  ye  could  read  my  heart  at  this  moment,  believe  that 
you  would  not  find  there  the  vain  joy  of  aspiring  man, 
when  the  greatest  of  earthly  prizes  is  placed  within  his 
reach.  There  you  would  see,  Avith  deep  and  wordless 
gratitude  for  your  trust  and  your  love,  grave  and  solemn 
solicitude,  earnest  desire  to  divest  my  decision  of  all  mean 
thought  of  self,  and  judge  only  whether  indeed,  as  king 
or  as  subject,  I  can  best  guard  the  weal  of  England. 
Pardon  me,  then,  if  I  answer  you  not  as  ambition  alone 
would  answer ;  neither  deem  me  insensible  to  the  glorious 
lot  of  presiding,  under  Heaven,  and  by  the  light  of  our 
laws,  over  the  destinies  of  the  English  realm,  —  if  I  pause 
to  weigh  well  the  responsibilities  incurred,  and  the  obstacles 
to  be  surmounted.  There  is  that  on  my  mind  that  1 
would  fain  unbosom,  not  of  a  nature  to  discuss  in  an 
assembly  so  numerous,  but  which  I  would  rather  submit  to 
a  chosen  few  whom  you  yourselves  may  select  to  hear  me, 
in  whose  cool  wisdom,  apart  from  personal  love  to  me,  ye 

VOL.  II.  — 10 


146  HAROLD. 

may  best  confide ;  —  your  most  veteran  thegus,  your  most 
honored  prelates  ;  to  them  will  I  speak,  to  them  make 
clean  my  bosom  ;  and  to  their  answer,  their  counsels,  will 
I  in  all  things  defer :  whether  with  loyal  heart  to  serve 
another,  whom,  hearing  me,  they  may  decide  to  choose ; 
or  to  fit  my  soul  to  bear,  not  unworthily,  the  weight  of 
a  kingly  crown." 

Aired  lifted  his  mild  eyes  to  Harold,  and  there  were 
both  pity  and  approval  in  his  gaze,  for  he  divined  the  earl. 

**  Thou  hast  chosen  the  right  course,  my  son ;  and  we 
will  retire  at  once,  and  elect  those  with  whom  thou 
mayst  freely  confer,  and  by  whose  judgment  thou  mayst 
righteously  abide." 

The  prelate  turned,  and  with  him  went  the  conclave. 

Left  alone  with  Haco,  the  last  said  abruptly,  — 

"  Thou  wilt  not  be  so  indiscreet,  0  Harold,  as  to  con- 
fess thy  compelled  oath  to  the  fraudful  Norman  1  " 

"  That  is  my  design,"  replied  Harold,  coldly. 

The  son  of  Sweyn  began  to  remonstrate,  but  the  earl 
cut  him  short. 

"  If  the  Norman  say  tliat  he  has  been  deceived  in 
Harold,  never  so  shall  say  the  men  of  England.  Leave 
me.  I  know  not  why,  Haco,  but  in  thy  presence,  at 
times,  there  is  a  glamour  as  strong  as  in  the  spells  of  Hilda. 
Go,  dear  boy  ,  the  fault  is  not  in  thee,  but  in  the  super- 
stitious infirmities  of  a  man  who  hath  once  lowered,  or, 
it  may  be,  too  highly  strained,  his  reason  to  the  things  of 
a  haggard  fancy.  Go  !  and  send  to  me  my  brother  Gurth. 
I  would  have  him  alone  of  my  House  present  at  this 
solemn  crisis  of  its  fate." 

Haco  bowed  his  head,  and  went. 

In  a  few  moments  more,  Gurth  came  in.  To  this  pure 
and  spotless  spirit  Harold  had  already  related  the  events  of 
his   unhappy  visit  to   the  Norman  ;  and  he  felt,  as  the 


HAROLD.  147 

young  chief  pressed  his  hand,  and  looked  on  him  with 
his  clear  and  loving  eyes,  as  if  Honor  made  palpable  stood 
by  his  side. 

Six  of  the  ecclesiastics,  most  eminent  for  Church  learn- 
ing, —  small  as  was  that  which  they  could  boast,  compared 
with  tiie  scholars  of  Normandy  and  the  Papal  States,  but 
at  least  more  intelHgent  and  more  free  from  mere  formal 
monasticism  than  most  of  their  Saxon  contemporaries,  — 
and  SIX  of  the  chiefs  most  renowned  for  experience  in  war 
or  council,  selected  under  the  sagacious  promptings  of 
Aired,  accompanied  that  prelate  to  the  presence  of  the 
earl. 

"  Close,  thou  !  close  !  close  !  Gurth,"  whispered  Harold  : 
"  for  this  is  a  confession  against  man's  pride,  and  sorely 
doth  it  shame  ;  —  so  that  I  would  have  thy  bold,  sinless 
heart  beating  near  to  mine." 

Then,  leaning  his  arm  upon  his  brother's  shoulder,  and 
in  a  voice,  the  first  tones  of  which,  as  betraying  earnest 
emotion,  irresistibly  chained  and  affected  his  noble  audi- 
ence, Harold  began  his  tale. 

Various  were  the  emotions,  though  all  more  akin  to 
terror  than  repugnance,  with  which  the  listeners  heard  the 
earl's  plain  and  candid  recital. 

Among  the  lay  chiefs  the  impression  made  by  the  com- 
pelled oath  was  coni])aratively  slight ;  for  it  was  the  worst 
vice  of  the  Saxon  laws  to  entangle  all  charges,  from  the 
smallest  to  the  greatest,  in  a  reckless  multiplicity  of  oatlis,^ 
to  the  grievous  loosening  of  the  bonds  of  truth  :  and 
oaths  then  had  become  almost  as  much  mere  matter  of 
legal  form,  as  certain  oaths  —  bad  relic  of  those  times  !  — 
still    existing    m  our    parliamentary    and    collegiate    pro- 

1  See  the  judicious  remarks  of  Henry,  "  Hist,  of  Britain,"  on 
this  head.  From  the  lavish  abuse  of  oaths,  perjury  had  come  to 
be  reckoned  one  of  the  national  vices  of  the  Saxon. 


148  HAEOLD. 

ceedings,  are  deemed  by  men,  not  otherwise  dishonorable 
even  now.  And  to  no  kind  of  oath  was  more  latitude 
given  than  to  such  as  related  to  i'ealty  to  a  chief ;  for  these, 
in  the  constant  rebellions  which  happened  year  after 
year,  were  openly  violated,  and  without  reproach.  Not  a 
sub-king  in  Wales  who  iiarried  the  border,  not  an  earl  who 
raised  banner  against  the  Basileus  of  Britain,  but  infringed 
his  oath  to  be  good  man  and  true  to  the  lord  paramount ; 
and  even  William  the  Norman  himself  never  found  his 
oath  of  fealty  stand  in  his  way,  whenever  he  deemed  it 
right  and  expedient  to  take  arms  against  his  suzerain  of 
France. 

On  the  churchmen  the  impression  was  stronger  and 
more  serious :  not  that  made  by  the  oath  itself,  but  by  the 
relics  on  which  the  hand  had  been  laid.  They  looked  afc 
each  other,  doubtful  and  appalled,  when  the  earl  ceased  his 
tale;  while  only  among  the  laymen  circled  a  murmur  of 
mingled  wrath  at  William's  bold  design  on  their  native 
land,  and  of  scorn  at  the  thought  that  an  oath,  surprised 
and  compelled,  should  be  made  the  instrument  of  treason 
to  a  whole  people. 

"  Thus,"  said  Harold,  after  a  pause,  —  "  thus  have  I 
made  clear  to  you  my  conscience,  and  revealed  to  you  the 
only  obstacle  between  your  offers  and  my  choice.  From 
the  keeping  of  an  oath  so  extorted,  and  so  deadly  to 
England,  this  venerable  prelate  and  mine  own  soul  have 
freed  me.  Whether  as  king  or  as  subject,  I  shall  alike 
revere  the  living  and  their  long  posterity  more  than  the 
dead  men's  bones,  and,  with  sword  and  witli  battle-axe, 
hew  out  against  the  invader  my  best  atonement  for  tiie 
lips'  weakness  and  the  heart's  desertion.  But  whether, 
knowing  what  hath  passed,  ye  may  not  deem  it  safer  for 
the  land  to  elect  another  king,  — this  it  is  which,  free  and 
forethoughtful  of  every  chance,  ye  should  now  decide." 


HAEOLD.  149 

With  these  words  he  stepped  from  the  dais,  and  retired 
into  the  oratory  that  adjoined  the  chamber,  followed  by 
Gurth.  The  eyes  of  the  priests  then  turned  to  Aired,  and 
to  them  the  prelate  spoke  as  he  had  done  before  to 
Harold ;  —  he  distinguished  between  the  oath  and  its 
fultilment,  between  the  lesser  sin  and  the  greater,  —  tlie 
one  which  the  Church  could  absolve,  the  one  which  no 
Church  had  the  right  to  exact,  and  which,  if  fulhlled,  no 
penance  could  expiate.  He  owned  frankly,  nevertheless, 
that  it  was  the  difficulties  so  created  that  had  made  him 
incline  to  the  Atheling  :  but,  convinced  of  that  prince's 
incapacity,  even  in  the  most  ordinary  times,  to  rule  Eng- 
land, he  shrank  yet  more  from  such  a  choice,  when  the 
swords  of  the  Norman  were  already  sharpening  for  con- 
test. Finally  he  said,  "  If  a  man  as  fit  to  defend  us  as 
Harold  can  be  found,  let  us  prefer  him  :  if  not  —  " 

"  There  is  no  other  man  !  "  cried  the  thegns  with  one 
voice.  "  And,"  said  a  wise  old  chief,  "  had  Harold  sought 
to  play  a  trick  to  secure  tlie  throne,  he  could  not  have 
devised  one  more  sure  than  the  tale  he  hath  now  told  us. 
What !  just  when  we  are  most  assured  that  the  douglitiest 
and  deadliest  foe  that  our  land  can  brave,  waits  but  for 
Edward's  death  to  enforce  on  us  a  stranger's  yoke,  — 
what  !  shall  we  for  that  very  reason  deprive  ourselves  of 
tlie  oul}'^  man  able  to  resist  him  1  Harold  hath  taken  an 
oath  !  God  wot  !  who  among  us  have  not  taken  some 
uatli  at  law  for  which  they  have  deemed  it  meet  afterwards 
to  do  a  penance  or  endow  a  convent  1  The  wisest  means 
to  strengthen  Harold  against  that  oath,  is  to  show  the 
moral  impossibility  of  fullilling  it,  by  placing  him  on  the 
tln'oue.  The  best  proof  we  can  give  to  this  insolent 
Norman  that  England  is  not  for  prince  to  leave,  or  sub- 
ject to  barter,  is  to  choose  solemnly  in  our  Witan  the 
very  chief  whom  his  frauds  prove  to  us  that  he  fears  the 


150  HAROLD. 

most.  Wliy,  William  would  laugh  in  his  own  sleeve  to 
summon  a  king  to  descend  from  his  throne  to  do  him  the 
homage  which  that  king,  in  tlie  different  capacity  of 
subject,  had  (we  will  grant,  even  willingly)  promised  to 
render." 

This  speech  spoke  all  the  thoughts  of  tlie  laymen,  and, 
with  Alred's  previous  remarks,  reassured  all  the  ecclesias- 
tics. They  were  easily  induced  to  believe  that  tiie  usual 
Church  penances,  and  ample  Church  gifts,  Avould  suffice 
for  the  insult  offered  to  the  relics;  and  —  if  they  in  so 
grave  a  case  outstripj)ed,  in  absolution,  an  authority  amply 
sufficing  for  all  ordinary  matters  —  Harold,  as  king,  might 
easily  gain  from  the  Pope  himself  that  full  pardon  and 
shrift,  which  as  mere  earl,  against  the  prince  of  tlie  Nor- 
mans,  he  would  fail  of  obtaining. 

Tliese  or  similar  reflections  soon  terminated  the  suspense 
of  the  select  council  ;  and  Aired  sought  the  earl  in  the 
oratory,  to  summon  him  back  to  the  conclave.  The  two 
brothers  were  kneeling  side  by  side  before  the  little  altar ; 
and  there  was  something  inexpressibly  touching  in  their 
humble  attitudes,  their  clasped  supplicating  hands,  in  that 
nKunent  when  the  crown  of  England  rested  above  tlieir 
House. 

The  brothers  rose,  and  at  Alred's  sign  followed  the 
prelate  into  the  council-room.  Aired  briefly  communi- 
cated the  result  of  the  conference  ;  and,  with  an  aspect  and 
in  a  tone  free  alike  from  triumph  and  indecision,  Harold 
replied  :  — 

"As  ye  will,  so  will  I.  Place  me  only  where  I  can 
most  serve  the  common  cause.  Remain  you  now,  know- 
ing my  secret,  a  chosen  and  standing  council :  too  great  is 
my  personal  stake  in  this  matter  to  allow  ray  mind  to  be 
unbiassed  ;  judge  ye,  then,  and  decide  for  me  in  all  things  : 
your  minds  should  be  calmer  and  wiser  than  mine ;  in  all 


HAROLD.  151 

tilings  I  will  abide  by  your  counsel ;  and  thus  I  accept 
the  trust  of  a  nation's  freedom." 

Each  thegn  then  put  his  hand  into  Harold's,  and  called 
himself  Harold's  man. 

"  Now,  more  tlian  ever,"  said  the  wise  old  tliegn  who 
had  before  spoken  "  will  it  be  needful  to  heal  all  dissen- 
sion in  the  kingdom,  —  to  reconcile  with  us  Mercia  and 
Northumbria,  and  make  the  kingdom  one  against  the 
foe.  You,  as  Tostig's  brother,  have  done  well  to  abstain 
from  active  interference  ;  you  do  well  to  leave  it  to  us  to 
negotiate  the  necessary  alliance  between  all  brave  and  good 
men." 

*'  And  to  that  end,  as  imperative  for  the  public  weal, 
you  consent,"  said  Aired,  thoughtfully,  "  to  abide  by  our 
advice,  whatever  it  be  1 " 

"  Whatever  it  be,  so  that  it  serve  England,"  answered 
the  earl. 

A  smile,  somewhat  sad,  flitted  over  the  prelate's  pale 
lips,  and  Harold  was  once  more  alone  with  Gurth. 


152  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

The  soul  of  all  council  and  cabal  on  behalf  of  Harold, 
which  had  led  to  the  determination  of  the  principal  chiefs 
and  which  now  succeeded  it  —  was  Haco. 

His  rank  as  son  of  Sweyn,  the  hrst-born  of  Godwin's 
House,  —  a  rank  which  might  have  authorized  some  pre- 
tensions on  his  own  part,  —  gave  him  all  field  for  the 
exercise  of  an  intellect  singularly  keen  and  profound. 
Accustomed  to  an  atmosphere  of  practical  statecraft  in 
the  Norman  court,  with  faculties  sliarpened  from  boy- 
hood by  vigilance  and  meditation,  he  exercised  an  ex- 
traordinary influence  over  the  simple  understandings  of 
the  homely  clergy  and  the  uncultured  thegns.  Impressed 
with  the  conviction  of  his  early  doom,  he  felt  no  interest 
in  the  objects  of  others ;  but,  equally  believing  that  what- 
ever of  bright  and  brave  and  glorious  in  his  brief, 
condemned  career,  was  to  be  reflected  on  him  from  the 
light  of  Harold's  destiny,  the  sole  desire  of  a  nature 
"which,  under  other  auspices,  would  have  been  intensely 
daring  and  ambitious,  was  to  administer  to  Harold's 
greatness.  No  prejudice,  no  principle,  stood  in  the  way 
of  tliis  dreary  entliusiasm.  As  a  father,  himself  on  the 
brink  of  the  grave,  schemes  for  the  worldly  grandeur  of  the 
son,  in  whom  he  confounds  and  melts  his  own  life,  so  this 
sombre  and  predestined  man,  dead  to  earth  and  to  joy  and 
the  emotions  of  the  heart,  looked  beyond  his  own  tomb  to 
that  existence  in  which  he  transferred  and  carried  on  his 
ambition. 


HAROLD.  15 


o 


If  the  leading  agencies  of  Harold's  memorable  career 
might  be,  as  it  were,  sj'mbolized  and  allegorized  by  the  liv- 
ino-  beinsfs  with  which  it  was  connected,  —  as  Edith  was  tlie 
representative  of  stainless  Truth,  as  Gurth  was  the  type  of 
dauntless  Duty,  as  Hilda  embodied  aspiring  Imagination,  — 
so  Haco  seemed  th(}  personation  of  worldly  wisdom  ;  and, 
cold  in  that  worldly  wisdom,  Haco  labored  on,  now  con- 
ferring with  Aired  and  the  partisans  of  Harold ;  now 
closeted  with  Edwin  and  Morcar;  now  gliding  from  the 
chamber  of  the  sick  king.  That  wisdom  foresaw  all 
obstacles,  smoothed  all  difficulties  ;  ever  calm,  never  rest- 
ing ;  marshalling  and  harmonizing  the  things  to  be,  like 
the  ruthless  hand  of  a  tranquil  fate.  But  there  was  one 
with  whom  Haco  was  more  often  than  with  all  others,  — 
one  whom  the  presence  of  Harold  had  allured  to  that 
anxious  scene  of  intrigue,  and  whose  heart  leaped  high  at 
the  hopes  whispered  from  the  smileless  lips  of  Haco. 


154  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

It  was  the  second  day  after  that  which  assured  him  the 
allegiance  of  the  thegns,  that  a  message  was  brought  to 
Harold  from  the  Lady  Aldyth.  She  was  in  Oxford  at  a 
convent,  with  her  young  daughter  by  the  Welsh  king ; 
she  prayed  him  to  visit  her.  The  earl,  whose  active 
mind,  abstaining  from  the  intrigues  around  him,  was 
delivered  up  to  the  thoughts,  restless  and  feverish,  which 
haunt  the  repose  of  all  active  minds,  was  not  unwilling  to 
escape  awhile  from  himself.  He  went  to  Aldyth.  The 
royal  widow  had  laid  by  the  signs  of  mourning ;  she  was 
dressed  with  the  usual  stately  and  loose-robed  splendor  of 
Saxon  matrons,  and  all  the  proud  beauty  of  her  youth 
was  restored  to  her  clieek.  At  her  feet  was  tliat  daughter 
■who  afterwards  married  the  Fleance  so  familiar  to  us  in 
Shakespeare,  and  became  the  ancestral  mother  of  those 
Scottish  kings  who  had  passed,  in  pale  shadows,  across 
the  eyes  of  Macbeth  ;  ^  by  the  side  of  that  child,  Harold, 
to  his  surprise,  saw  the  ever-ominous  face  of  Haco. 

But,  proud  as  was  Aldyth,  all  pritle  seemed  humbled 
into  woman's  sweeter  emotions  at  the  sight  of  the  earl, 
and  she  was  at  first  unable  to  command  words  to  answer 
his  greeting. 

Gradually,  however,  she  warmed  into  cordial  confidence. 
She  touched  lightly  on  her  past  sorrows  ;  she  permitted  it 
to  be  seen  that  her  lot  with  the  fierce  GryfTyth  had  been 
one  not  more  of  public  calamity  than   of  domestic  grief, 

1  And  so,  from  Gryffyth,  beheaded  by  his  subjects,  descended 
Charles  Stuart. 


HAROLD.  155 

and  that  in  tlie  natural  awe  and  horror  which  the  murder 
of  lier  lord  had  caused,  she  felt  rather  for  the  ill-starred 
king  than  the  heloved  spouse.  She  then  passed  to  the 
differences  still  existing  between  her  House  and  Harold's, 
and  spoke  well  and  wisely  of  the  desire  of  the  young  earls 
to  conciliate  his  grace  and  favor. 

While  thus  speaking,  Morcar  and  Edwin,  as  if  acci- 
dentally, entered,  and  their  salutations  of  Harold  were 
such  as  became  their  relative  positions ;  reserved,  not 
distant,  —  respectful  not  servile.  With  the  delicacy  of 
high  natures,  they  avoided  touching  on  the  cause  before 
the  Witan  (fixed  for  the  morrow),  on  which  depended 
their  earldoms  or  their  exile. 

Harold  was  pleased  by  their  bearing,  and  attracted 
towards  them  by  the  memory  of  the  affectionate  words 
that  had  passed  between  him  and  Leofric,  their  illustrious 
grandsire,  over  his  father's  corpse.  He  thought  then  of 
his  own  prayer,  "  Let  there  be  peace  between  thine  and 
mine  ! "  and  looking  at  their  fair  and  stately  youth  and 
nolile  carriage,  he  could  not  but  feel  that  the  men  of 
Northumbria  and  of  Mercia  had  chosen  well.  The  dis- 
course, however,  was  naturally  brief,  since  thus  made  gene- 
ral ;  the  visit  soon  ceased,  and  the  brothers  attended  Harold 
to  the  door,  with  the  courtesy  of  the  times.  Then  Haco 
said,  with  that  faint  movement  of  the  lips  which  was  his 
only  approach  to  a  smile,  — 

"  Will  ye  not,  noble  thegns,  give  your  hands  to  my 
kinsman  1  " 

"  Surely,"  said  Edwin,  the  handsomer  and  more  gentle 
of  the  two,  and  who,  having  a  poet's  nature,  felt  a  poet's 
enthusiasm  for  the  gallant  deeds  even  of  a  rival,  — 
"surely,  if  the  earl  will  accept  the  hands  of  those  who 
trust  never  to  be  compelled  to  draw  sword  against 
England's  hero." 


156  HAEOLD. 

Harold  stretched  forth  his  hand  in  reply,  and  that 
cordial  and  immemorial  pledge  of  our  national  friendships 
was  interchanged. 

Gaining  the  street,  Harold  said  to  his  nephew,  — 

"  Standing  as  I  do  towards  the  young  earls,  that  appeal 
of  thine  had  been  better  omitted." 

"  Nay,"  answered  Haco ;  "  their  cause  is  already  pre- 
judged in  their  favor  ;  and  thou  must  ally  thyself  with 
the  heirs  of  Leofric  and  the  successors  of  Si  ward." 

Harold  made  no  answer.  There  was  something  in  the 
positive  tone  of  this  beardless  youth  that  displeased  him  ; 
but  he  remembered  that  Haco  was  the  son  of  Svveyn, 
Godwin's  first-born,  and  that,  but  for  Svveyn's  crimes, 
Haco  might  have  lield  the  place  in  England  he  held 
himself,  and  looked  to  the  same  august  destinies  beyond. 

In  the  evening  a  messenger  from  the  Roman  house 
arrived,  with  two  letters  for  Harold ;  one  from  Hilda, 
that  contained  but  these  words  :  "  Again  peril  menaces 
thee,  but  in  the  shape  of  good.  Beware  !  and,  above  all, 
of  the  evil  that  wears  the  form  of  wisdom." 

The  other  letter  was  from  Edith  ;  it  was  long  for  the 
letters  of  that  age,  and  every  sentence  spoke  a  heart 
wrapped  in  his. 

Reading  the  last,  Hilda's  warnings  were  forgotten. 
The  picture  of  Edith — the  prospect  of  a  power  that 
might  at  last  effect  their  union  and  reward  her  long 
devotion  —  rose  before  him,  to  the  exclusion  of  wilder 
fancies  and  loftier  hopes ;  and  his  sleep  that  night  was 
full  of  youthful  and  happy  dreams. 

The  next  day  the  Witan  met.  The  meeting  was  less 
stormy  than  had  been  expected ;  for  the  minds  of  most 
men  were  made  up,  and  so  far  as  Tostig  was  interested, 
the  facts  were  too  evident  and  notorious,  the  witnesses 
too  numerous,  to  leave  any  option  to  the  judges.  Edward, 


HAKOLD.  157 

on  whom  alone  Tostig  had  relied,  had  already,  with  his 
ordinary  vacillation,  been  swayed  towards  a  right  decision, 
partly  by  the  counsels  of  Aired  and  his  other  prelates, 
and  especially  by  the  representations  of  Haco,  whose 
grave  bearing  and  profound  dissimulation  had  gained  a 
singular  influence  over  the  formal  and  melancholy  king. 

By  some  previous  compact  or  understanding  between 
the  opposing  parties,  there  was  no  attempt,  however,  to 
push  matters  against  the  offending  Tostig  to  vindictive 
extremes.  There  was  no  suggestion  of  outlawry  or  pun- 
ishment beyond  the  simple  deprivation  of  the  earldom  he 
had  abused.  And  in  return  for  tliis  moderation  on  the 
one  side,  the  other  agreed  to  support  and  ratify  the  new 
election  of  the  Northumbrians.  Morcar  was  thus  formally 
invested  with  the  vice-kingship  of  that  great  realm,  while 
Edwin  was  confirmed  in  the  earldom  of  the  principal  part 
of  Mercia. 

On  the  announcement  of  these  decrees,  which  were 
received  with  loud  applause  by  all  the  crowd  assembled 
to  hear  them,  Tostig,  rallying  round  him  his  house-carles, 
left  the  town.  He  went  first  to  Githa,  with  whom  his 
wife  had  sought  refuge  ;  and,  after  a  long  conference  with 
his  mother,  he  and  his  haughty  countess  journeyed  to  the 
sea-coast,  and  took  ship  for  Flanders. 


158  HAROLD. 


CHAPTEE    IX. 

GuRTH  and  Harold  were  seated  in  close  commune  in  the 
earl's  chamber,  at  an  hour  long  after  the  complin  (or 
second  vespers),  when  Aired  entered  unexpectedly. 
The  old  man's  face  was  unusually  grave,  and  Harold's 
penetrating  eye  saw  that  he  was  gloomy  with  some 
matters  of  great  moment. 

"  Harold,"  said  the  prelate,  seating  himself,  "  the  hour 
has  come  to  test  thy  truth,  when  thou  saidst  that  thou 
wert  ready  to  make  all  sacrifice  to  thy  land  ;  and  further, 
that  thou  wouldst  abide  by  the  counsel  of  those  free  from 
thy  passions,  and  looking  on  thee  only  as  the  instrument 
of  England's  weal." 

"  Speak  on,  father,"  said  Harold,  turning  somewhat 
pale  at  the  solemnity  of  the  address  ;  "  I  am  ready,  if  the 
council  so  desire,  to  remain  a  subject,  and  aid  in  the 
choice  of  a  worthier  king." 

"  Thou  divinest  me  ill,"  answered  Aired  :  "  I  do  not 
call  on  thee  to  lay  aside  the  crown,  but  to  crucify  tlie 
lieart.  The  decree  of  the  Witan  assigns  Mercia  and 
J^orthumbria  to  the  sons  of  Algar.  The  old  demarcations 
of  the  heptarchy,  as  thou  knowest,  are  scarce  worn  out ; 
it  is  even  now  less  one  monarchy,  than  various  states 
retaining  their  own  laws,  and  inliabited  by  different  races, 
who  under  the  sub-kings,  called  earls,  acknowledge  a 
supreme  head  in  the  Basileus  of  Britain.  Mercia  hath  its 
March  law  and  its  prince ;  Northumbria  its  Dane  law 
and  its  leader.     To  elect  a  king  without  civil  war,  these 


HAROLD.  159 

realms,  for  so  they  are,  must  unite  with  and  sanction  the 
Witans  elsewhere  held.  Only  thus  can  the  kingdom  be 
firm  against  foes  without  and  anarchy  within  ;  and  the 
more  so,  from  the  alliance  between  the  new  earls  of  those 
great  provinces  and  the  House  of  (Jrylfyth,  which 
still  lives  in  Caradoc  his  son.  What  if  at  Edward's  death 
Mercia  and  Northnmbria  refuse  to  sanction  thy  accession] 
What,  if,  when  all  our  force  were  needed  against  the 
Norman,  the  Welsh  broke  loose  from  their  hills,  and  the 
Scots  from  their  moors  1  Malcolm  of  Cumbria,  now 
King  of  Scotland,  is  Tostig's  dearest  friend,  while  his 
people  side  with  Morcar.  Verily  these  are  dangers  enow 
for  a  new  king,  even  if  William's  sword  slept  in  its 
sheath." 

"  Thou  speakest  tlie  words  of  wisdom,"  said  Harold, 
"  but  I  knew  beforehand  that  he  who  wears  a  crown  must 
abjure  repose." 

"  Not  so  ;  there  is  one  way,  and  but  one,  to  reconcile 
all  England  to  thy  dominion,  —  to  win  to  thee  not  tlie 
cold  neutrality  but  the  eager  zeal  of  Mercia  and  North- 
nmbria ;  to  make  the  first  guard  thee  from  the  Welsh,  the 
last  be  thy  rampart  against  the  Scot.  In  a  word,  thou 
must  ally  thyself  with  the  blood  of  these  young  earls  ; 
thou  must  wed  with  Aldyth  their  sister." 

The  earl  sprang  to  his  feet  aghast. 

"  No  —  no  !  "  he  exclaimed  ;  "  not  that !  —  any  sacri- 
fice but  that  !  —  rather  forfeit  the  throne  than  resign  the 
heart  that  leans  on  mine  !  Thou  knowest  my  pledge  to 
Edith  my  cousin  ;  pledge  hallowed  by  the  faith  of  long 
years.  No  —  no  ;  have  mercy  —  human  mercy  ;  I  can 
wed  no  other  !  —  any  sacrifice  but  that !  " 

The  good  prelate,  though  not  unprepared  for  this  burst, 
was  much  moved  by  its  genuine  anguish  ;  but,  steadfast 
to  his  purpose,  he  resumed  :  — 


160  HAROLD. 

"  Alds,  my  son  !  so  say  we  all  in  the  hour  of  trial,  — 
any  sacrifice  but  that  which  duty  and  Heaven  ordain. 
Resign  the  throne  thou  canst  not,  or  thou  leavest  the 
land  without  a  ruler,  distracted  by  rival  claims  and  ambi- 
tions, an  easy  prey  to  the  Norman.  Eesign  thy  human 
affections  thou  canst  and  must ;  and  the  more,  0  Harold, 
that  even  if  duty  compelled  not  this  new  alliance,  the  old 
tie  is  one  of  sin,  which,  as  king,  and  as  high  example  in 
high  place  to  all  men,  thy  conscience  within,  and  the 
Church  without,  summon  thee  to  break.  How  purify 
the  erring  lives  of  the  churclimen,  if  thyself  a  rebel  to  the 
Church  1  and  if  thou  hast  thought  that  thy  power  as  king 
might  prevail  on  the  Eoman  Pontiff  to  grant  dispensation 
for  wedlock  within  the  degrees,  and  that  so  thou  mightest 
legally  confirm  thy  now  illegal  troth,  bethink  thee  well, 
thou  hast  a  more  dread  and  urgent  boon  now  to  ask,  — 
in  absolution  from  thine  oath  to  William.  Both  prayers, 
surely,  our  Roman  father  will  not  grant.  Wilt  thou 
choose  that  which  absolves  from  sin,  or  that  which 
consults  but  thy  carnal  affections  ] " 

Harold  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  and  groaned 
aloud  in  his  strong  agony. 

"  Aid  me,  Gurth,"  cried  Aired,  ''  thou,  sinless  and  spot- 
less ;  thou,  in  whose  voice  a  brother's  love  can  blend  with 
a  Christian's  zeal,  —  aid  me,  Gurth,  to  melt  the  stubborn, 
but  to  comfort  the  human,  heart." 

Then  Gurth,  with  a  strong  effort  over  himself,  knelt 
by  Harold's  side,  and  in  strong  simple  language  backed 
tlie  representations  of  the  priest.  In  truth,  all  argument 
drawn  from  reason,  whether  in  the  state  of  the  land,  or  the 
new  duties  to  whicli  Harold  was  committed,  were  on  the  one 
side,  and  unanswerable  ;  on  the  other,  was  but  that  mighty 
resistance  which  love  opposes  ever  to  reason.  And  Harold 
continued  to  murmur,  while  his  liands  concealed  his  face. 


HAROLD.  161 

"  Impossible  !  —  she  who  trusted,  who  trusts,  who  so 
loves,  —  she  whose  whole  youth  hath  been  consumed  in 
patient  faith  in  me  !  —  Eesign  her  !  and  for  another  !  I 
cannot,  I  cannot.  Take  from  me  the  throne  !  —  Oh  vain 
heart  of  man,  that  so  long  desired  its  own  curse  !  —  Crown 
the  Atheling ;  my  manhood  shall  defend  his  youth.  — 
But  not  this  otfering  !     No,  no,  —  I  will  not !  " 

It  were  tedious  to  relate  the  rest  of  that  prolonged  and 
agitated  conference.  All  that  night,  till  the  last  stars 
waned,  aud  the  bells  of  prime  were  heard  from  church  and 
convent,  did  the  priest  and  the  brother  alternately  plead 
and  remonstrate,  chide  and  soothe ;  and  still  Harold's 
heart  clung  to  Edith's  with  its  bleeding  roots.  At  length 
they,  perhaps  not  unwisely,  left  him  tn  himself ;  and  as, 
Avhispering  low  their  hopes  and  tlieir  fears  of  the  result 
of  the  self-conflict,  they  went  forth  from  the  convent, 
Haco  joined  them  in  the  courtyard,  and  while  his  cold 
mournful  eye  scanned  the  faces  of  priest  and  brother, 
he  asked  them  how  they  had  sped. 

Aired  shook  his  head  and  answered,  — 

"  Man's  heart  is  more  strong  in  the  flesh  than  true  to 
the  spirit." 

"  Pardon  me,  father,"  said  Haco,  "  if  I  suggest  that  your 
most  eloquent  and  persuasive  ally  in  this  were  Edith  her- 
self. Start  not  so  incredulously  ;  it  is  because  she  loves 
the  earl  more  than  her  own  life,  that  —  once  show  her 
that  the  earl's  safety,  greatness,  honor,  duty,  lie  in  release 
from  his  troth  to  her  —  that  nought  save  his  erring  love 
resists  your  councils  and  his  country's  claims,  and  Edith's 
voice  will  have  more  power  than  yours." 

The  virtuous  prelate,  more  acquainted  with  man's 
selfishness  than  woman's  devotion,  oidy  replied  by  an 
impatient  gesture.  But  Gurth,  lately  wedded  to  a  woman 
worthy  of  him,  said  gravely,  — 

VOL.  II.  11 


162  HAEOLD. 

"Haco  speaks  well,  my  Mlier;  and  metliinks  it  is  due 
to  both  that  Edith  should  not,  unconsulted,  be  abandoned 
by  him  for  whom  she  has  abjured  all  others  ;  to  whom 
she  has  been  as  devoted  in  heart  as  if  sworn  wife  already. 
Leave  we  awhile  my  brother,  never  the  slave  of  passion, 
and  with  whom  England  must  at  last  prevail  over  all 
seltish  thought  ;  and  ride  we  at  once  to  tell  to  Edith 
what  we  have  told  to  him  ;  or  rather,  —  woman  can  best 
in  such  a  case  speak  to  woman,  — let  us  tell  all  to  our 
lady,  —  Edward's  wife,  Harold's  sister,  and  Edith's  holy 
godmother,  —  and  abide  by  her  counsel.  On  the  third 
day  we  shall  return." 

"  Go  we  so  charged,  noble  Gurth,"  said  Haco,  observing 
the  prelate's  reluctant  countenance,  "  and  leave  we  our 
reverend  father  to  watch  over  the  earl's  sharp  struggle." 

"  Thou  speakest  well,  my  son,"  said  the  prelate,  "  and 
thy  mission  suits  the  young  and  the  layman  better  than 
the  old  and  the  priest." 

"  Let  us  go,  Haco,"  said  Gurth,  briefly.  "  Deep,  sore, 
and  lasting  is  the  wound  I  inflict  on  the  brother  of  my 
love,  and  my  own  heart  bleeds  in  his ;  but  he  himself 
hath  taught  me  to  hold  England  as  a  Eoman  held  Rome." 


HAEOLD.  163 


CHAPTER  X. 

It  is  the  nature  of  that  happiness  which  we  derive  from 
our  affections  to  be  cahii ;  its  immense  influence  upon  our 
outward  life  is  not  known  till  it  is  troubled  or  withdrawn. 
By  placing  his  heart  at  peace,  man  leaves  vent  to  his 
energies  and  passions,  and  permits  their  current  to  flow 
towards  the  aims  and  objects  which  interest  labor  or 
arouse  ambition.  Tlius  absorbed  in  the  occupation  with- 
out, he  is  lulled  into  a  certain  forgetfulness  of  the  value 
of  that  internal  repose  which  gives  health  and  vigor  to 
the  faculties  he  employs  abroad.  But  once  mar  this 
scarce  felt,  almost  invisible  harmony,  and  the  discord 
extends  to  tlie  remotest  chords  of  our  active  being.  Say 
to  the  busiest  man  whom  thou  seest  in  mart,  camp,  or 
senate,  who  seems  to  thee  all  intent  upon  his  worldly 
schemes,  "  Thy  home  is  reft  from  thee,  thy  household  gods 
are  shattered,  that  sweet,  noiseless  content  in  the  regular 
mechanism  of  the  springs,  wliich  set  the  large  Avheels 
of  thy  soul  into  movement,  is  tliine  nevermore  ! "  — 
and  straightway  all  exertion  seems  robbed  of  its  object, 
—  all  aim  of  its  alluring  charm.  "Othello's  occupation 
is  gone  !  "  With  a  start,  that  man  will  awaken  from  the 
sunlit  visions  of  noontide  ambition,  and  exclaim  in  his 
desolate  anguish,  "  What  are  all  the  rewards  to  my  labor, 
now  thou  hast  robbed  me  of  repose  1  How  little  are  all 
the  gains  wrung  from  strife,  in  a  world  of  rivals  and  foes, 
compared  to  the  smile  whose  sweetness  I  knew  not  till  it 


164  HAROLD. 

was  lost ;  and  the  sense  of  secui-ity  from  mortal  ill  which 
I  took  from  the  trust  and  sympathy  of  love  !  " 

Tims  was  it  with  Harold  in  that  bitter  and  terrible 
crisis  of  his  fate.  This  rare  and  spiritual  love,  which  had 
existed  on  hope,  which  had  never  known  fruition,  had 
become,  the  subtlest,  the  most  exquisite  part  of  his  being ; 
this  love,  to  the  full  and  holy  possession  of  which  every 
step  in  his  career  seemed  to  advance  him,  was  it  now  to  be 
evermore  reft  from  his  heart,  his  existence,  at  the  very 
moment  when  he  had  deemed  himself  most  secure  of  its  re- 
wards, —  when  he  most  needed  its  consolations  1  Hitherto, 
in  that  love  he  had  lived  in  the  future,  —  he  had 
silenced  the  voice  of  the  turbulent  human  passion  by  the 
whisper  of  the  patient  angel,  "  A  little  while  yet,  and  thy 
bride  sits  beside  thy  throne  !  "  IS^ow  what  was  that 
future  !  how  joyless !  how  desolate  !  The  splendor 
vanished  from  Ambition,  the  glow  from  the  face  of  Fame, 
the  sense  of  Duty  remained  alone  to  counteract  the 
pleadings  of  Affection  ;  but  Duty,  no  longer  dressed  in  all 
the  gorgeous  colorings  it  took  before  from  glory  and 
power,  —  Duty  stern  and  harsh  and  terrible  as  tlie  iron 
frown  of  a  Grecian  Destiny. 

And  thus,  front  to  front  with  that  Duty,  he  sat  alone 
one  evening,  while  his  lips  murmured,  "  Oh,  fatal  voyage, 
—  oh,  lying  truth  in  the  hell-born  prophecy  !  this,  then, 
this  was  the  wife  my  league  with  the  Norman  was  to  win 
to  my  arms'?"  In  the  streets  below  were  heard  the 
tramp  of  busy  feet  hurrying  homeward,  and  the  con- 
fused uproar  of  joyous  wassail  from  the  various  resorts 
of  entertainment  crowded  by  careless  revellers.  And  the 
tread  of  steps  mounted  the  stairs  without  his  door,  and 
there  paused  ;  and  there  was  the  murmur  of  two  voices 
without :  one  the  clear  voice  of  Gurth,  —  one  softer  and 
more  troubled.    The  earl  Hfted  his  head  from  his  bosom,  and 


HAROLD.  165 

his  heart  beat  quick  at  the  faint  and  scarce-heard  sound 
of  that  last  voice.  The  door  opened  gently,  gently  :  a 
form  entered,  and  halted  on  tlie  shadow  of  the  threshold  ; 
the  door  closed  again  by  a  hand  from  without.  The  earl 
rose  to  his  feet  tremulously,  and  the  next  moment  Edith 
was  at  his  knees  ;  her  hood  thrown  back,  her  face  up- 
turned to  his,  bright  with  un faded  beauty,  serene  with  the 
grandeur  of  self-martyrdom. 

"  0  Harold ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  dost  thou  remember 
that  in  the  old  time  I  said,  '  Edith  had  loved  thee  less,  if 
thou  hadst  not  loved  England  more  than  Edith  '  1  Recall, 
recall  those  words.  And  deemest  thou  now  that  I,  who 
have  gazed  for  years  into  thy  clear  soul,  and  learned  there 
to  sun  my  woman's  heart  in  the  light  of  all  glories  native 
to  noblest  man,  —  deemest  thou,  0  Harold,  that  I  am 
weaker  now  tlian  then,  when  I  scarce  knew  what  England 
and  glory  were  ]  " 

"  Edith,  Edith,  what  wouldst  thou  say?  —  What  know- 
est  thou  ]  —  Who  hath  told  thee  1  —  What  led  thee  hither, 
to  take  part  against  thyself?  " 

"  It  matters  not  who  told  me  ;  I  know  all.  What  led 
me  1  Mine  own  soul,  and  mine  own  love  !  "  Springing 
to  her  feet,  and  clasping  his  hand  in  both  hers,  while  she 
looked  into  his  face,  she  resumed,  "  I  do  not  say  to  thee, 
*  Grieve  not  to  part ; '  for  I  know  too  well  thy  faith,  thy 
tenderness,  —  thy  heart,  so  grand  and  so  soft.  But  I  do 
say,  *  Soar  above  thy  grief,  and  be  more  than  man  for  tlie 
sake  of  men  ! '  Yes,  Harold,  for  this  last  time  I  behold 
thee.  I  clasp  thy  hand,  I  lean  on  thy  heart,  I  hear  its 
Deating,  and  I  shall  go  hence  without  a  tear." 

"  It  cannot,  it  shall  not  be  !  "  exclaimed  Harold,  pas- 
sionately. "  Thou  deceivest  thyself  in  the  divine  passion 
of  the  hour :  thou  canst  not  foresee  the  utterness  of  the 
desolation  to  which  thou  wouldst  doom   thy   life.     We 


166  HAKOLD. 

were  betrothed  to  each  other  bv  ties  strong:  as  those  of 
the  Church,  —  over  the  grave  of  the  dead,  under  the 
vault  of  heaven,  in  the  form  of  ancestral  faith  !  The 
bond  cannot  be  broken.  If  England  demands  nie,  let 
England  take  me  with  the  ties  it  were  unholy,  even  for 
her  sake,  to  rend  !  " 

"  Alas,  alas  !  "  faltered  Edith,  while  the  flush  on  her 
cheek  saTik  into  mournful  paleness.  "  It  is  not  as  thou 
sayest.  So  has  thy  love  sheltered  me  from  the  world,  — 
so  utter  was  my  youth's  ignorance  or  my  heart's  oblivion 
of  the  stern  laws  of  man,  that  when  it  pleased  thee  that 
we  should  love  each  other,  I  could  not  believe  that  that 
love  was  sin ;  and  that  it  was  sin  hitherto  I  will  not 
think  ;  —  now,  it  hath  become  one." 

"  No,  no !  "  cried  Harold  ;  all  the  eloquence  on  which 
thousands  had  hung,  thrilled  and  spell-bound,  deserting 
him  in  that  hour  of  need,  and  leaving  to  him  onl}'' broken 
exclamations, —  fragments,  in  each  of  which  his  heart 
itself  seemed  shivered  ;  "  no,  no,  not  sin  !  —  sin  only  to  for- 
sake thee.  Hush  !  hush  !  —  this  is  a  dream,  —  wait  till  we 
wake  !    True  heart  !  noble  soul !  I  will  not  part  from  thee  !  " 

"  But  I  from  thee  !  And  ratlier  than  thou  shouldst  be 
lost  for  my  sake  —  the  sake  of  woman  —  to  honor  and 
conscience,  and  all  for  which  thy  sublime  life  sprang 
from  the  hands  of  Nature,  —  if  not  the  cloister,  may  I 
find  the  grave  !  —  Harold,  to  the  last  let  me  be  worthy  of 
thee ;  and  feel,  at  least,  that  if  not  thy  wife  —  that 
briuht,  that  blessed  fate  not  mine!  —  still,  rememberine 
Edith,  just  men  may  say,  '  She  would  not  have  dishonored 
the  hearth  of  Harold!'" 

"  Dost  thou  know,"  said  the  earl,  striving  to  speak 
calmly,  —  "  dost  thou  know  that  it  is  not  only  to  resign 
thee  that  they  demand,  —  that  it  is  to  resign  thee,  and 
for  another  ! " 


HAROLD.  167 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Edith ;  and  two  burning  tears 
despite  her  strong  and  preternatural  self-exaltation, 
swelled  from  the  dark  fringe,  and  rolled  slowly  down  the 
colorless  cheek  as  she  added  with  proud  voice,  "  I  know 
it :  but  that  other  is  not  Aldyth,  it  is  England  !  In  her, 
in  Aldyth,  behold  the  dear  cause  of  thy  native  land  ; 
with  her  enweave  the  love  which  thy  native  land  should 
command.  So  thinking,  thou  art  reconciled,  and  I 
consoled.     It  is  not  for  woman  that  thou  desertest  Edith." 

"  Hear,  and  take  from  those  lips  the  strength  and  the 
valor  that  belong  to  the  name  of  Hero  !  "  said  a  deep  and 
clear  voice  behind  ;  and  Gurth  —  who,  whether  distrust- 
ing the  result  of  an  interview  so  prolonged,  or  tenderly 
desirous  to  terminate  its  pain,  had  entered  unobserved  — ■ 
approached,  and  wound  liis  arm  caressingly  round  his 
brother.  "  0  Harold!  "  he  said,  "dear  to  me  as  the  drops 
in  my  heart  is  my  young  bride,  newly-wed  ;  but  for  one 
tithe  of  the  claims  tliat  now  call  thee  to  the  torture  and 
trial,  —  yea,  if  but  for  one  hour  of  good  service  to  free- 
dom and  law,  —  I  would  consent  without  a  groan  to 
behold  her  no  more.  And  if  men  asked  me  how  I  could 
so  conquer  man's  affections,  I  would  point  to  thee,  and 
say,  '  So  Harold  taught  my  youth  by  his  lessons,  and  my 
manhood  by  his  life.'  Before  thee,  visible,  stand  Happi- 
ness and  Love,  but  with  them,  Shame ;  before  thee, 
invisible,  stands  Woe,  but  with  Woe  are  England  and 
eternal  Glory  !     Choose  between  them." 

"  He  hath  chosen,"  said  Edith,  as  Harold  turned  to 
the  wall,  and  leaned  against  it,  hiding  his  face ;  tlien, 
approaching  softly,  she  knelt,  lifted  to  her  lips  the  hem 
of  his  robe,  and  kissed  it  with  devout  passion. 

Harold  turned  suddenly,  and  opened  his  arms.  Edith 
resisted  not  that  mute  appeal ;  she  rose,  and  fell  on  his 
breast,  sobbing. 


168  HAROLD. 

Wild  and  speecliless  was  that  last  embrace.  The 
moon,  which  had  witnessed  their  union  by  the  heathen 
grave,  now  rose  above  the  tower  of  tlie  Christian  church, 
and  looked  wan  and  cold  upon  their  parting. 

Solemn  and  clear  paused  the  orb,  a  cloud  passed  over 
tlie  disk,  —  and  Editli  was  gone.  The  cloud  rolled  away, 
and  again  the  moon  shone  forth  ;  and  where  had  knelt 
the  fair  form,  and  looked  the  last  look  of  Edith,  stood  the 
motionless  image,  and  gazed  the  solemn  eye,  of  the  dark 
son  of  Sweyn.  But  Harold  leaned  on  the  breast  of 
Gurth,  and  saw  not  who  had  supplanted  the  soft  and  lov- 
ing Fylgia  of  his  life, —  saw  nought  in  the  universe  but 
the  blank  of  desolation  I 


U.UIOLD.  169 


BOOK     XL 

THE   NORMAN    SCUEMER,    AND    THE   NORWEGIAN    SEA-KING. 


CHAPTER    I. 

It  was  the  ore  of  the  5th  of  January,  —  the  eve  of  the 
day  auiiounced  to  King  Edward  as  that  of  his  deliverance 
from  earth ;  and  whether  or  not  the  prediction  had 
■wrought  its  own  fultihuent  on  the  fracrile  frame  and  sus- 
ceptible  nerves  of  the  king,  the  h\st  of  the  hne  of  Cerdic 
was  fast  passing  into  the  solemn  shades  of  eternity. 

Without  the  walls  of  the  palace,  through  the  whole 
city  of  London,  the  excitement  was  indescribable.  All 
the  river  befoi"e  the  palace  W!\s  crowded  with  boats  ;  all 
the  bi^oad  space  on  the  Isle  of  Thorney  itself,  thronged 
with  anxious  groups.  But  a  few  days  before,  the  new- 
built  abbev  had  been  solemnlv  consecrated  :  with  the 
completion  of  that  holy  edifice,  Edward's  life  itself  seemed 
done.     Like  the  kings  of  Egypt,  he  had  built  his  tomb. 

Within  the  palace,  if  possible,  still  greater  was  the  agi- 
tation, more  divad  the  suspense.  Lobbies,  halls,  corridore, 
stiiirs,  iuiterooms,  were  tilled  with  churchmen  and  thegns. 
Nor  was  it  alone  for  news  of  the  king's  state  that  their 
brows  weiv  so  knit,  that  their  breath  came  and  went  so 
short.  It  is  not  when  a  great  chief  is  dying  that  men 
compose  their  minds  to  deplore  a  loss.     That  comes  long 


170  HAROLD. 

after,  when  the  worm   is  at  its   work,    and   comparison 
between  the  dead  and  the  livin^  often   ricrhts  the   one  to 

O  O 

wrong  the  other.  But  while  the  breath  is  struggling,  and 
the  eye  glazing,  life,  busy  in  the  bystanders,  murmurs, 
"  Who  shall  be  the  heir?"  And,  in  this  instance,  never 
had  suspense  been  so  keenly  wrought  up  into  hope  and 
terror,  for  the  news  of  Duke  William's  designs  had  now 
spread  far  and  near ;  and  awful  was  the  doubt,  whether 
the  abhorred  Norman  should  receive  his  sole  sanction  to 
so  arrogant  a  claim  from  the  parting  assent  of  Edward. 
Although,  as  we  have  seen,  the  crown  was  not  absolutely 
within  the  bequests  of  a  dying  king,  but  at  the  will  of 
tlie  Witan,  still,  in  circumstances  so  unparalleled,  —  tlie 
utter  failure  of  all  natural  heirs,  save  a  boy  feeble  in  mind 
as  body,  and  half  foreign  by  birth  and  rearing  ;  the  love 
borne  by  Edward  to  the  Church  ;  and  the  sentiments, 
half  of  pity,  half  of  reverence,  with  which  he  was 
regarded  throughout  the  land,  —  his  djnng  word  would 
go  far  to  influence  the  council,  and  select  the  successor. 
Some  whispering  to  each  other,  with  pale  lips,  all  tlie 
dire  predictions  then  current  in  men's  mouths  and  breasts  ; 
some  in  moody  silence ;  all  lifted  eager  eyes,  as,  from 
time  to  time,  a  gloomy  Benedictine  passed  in  the  direction 
to  or  fro  the  king's  chamber. 

In  that  chamber,  traversing  the  past  of  eight  centuries, 
enter  we  with  hushed  and  noiseless  feet,  —  a  room  known 
to  us  in  many  a  later  scene  and  legend  of  England's 
troubled  history,  as  "  The  Painted  Chamber,"  long 
called  "The  Confessor's."  At  the  farthest  end  of  that 
long  and  lofty  space,  raised  upon  a  regal  platform,  and 
roofed  witli  regal  canopy,  was  the  bed  of  death. 

At  the  foot  stood  Harold  ;  on  one  side  knelt  Edith, 
the  king's  lady,  at  the  other  Aired  ;  while  Stigand  stood 
near,  —  the  holy  rood  in  his   hand,  —  and   the  abbot  of 


HAROLD.  171 

the  new  monastery  of  Westminster  by  Stigand's  side ; 
and  all  the  greatest  thegns,  including  Morcar  and  Edwin, 
Gurth  and  Leofvvine,  all  the  more  illustrious  prelates  and 
abbots,  stood  also  on  the  dais. 

In  the  lower  end  of  the  hall  the  king's  physician  was 
warming  a  cordial  over  the  brazier,  and  some  of  the  sub- 
ordinate officers  of  the  household  were  standing  in  the 
niches  of  the  deep-set  windows ;  and  they  —  not  great 
eno'  for  other  emotions  than  those  of  human  love  for  their 
kindly  lord  —  they  wept. 

The  king,  who  had  already  undergone  the  last  holy 
offices  of  the  Church,  was  lying  quite  quiet,  his  eyes  half 
closed,  breathing  low  but  regularly.  He  had  been  speech- 
less the  two  preceding  days ;  on  this  he  had  uttered  a 
few  words,  which  showed  returning  consciousness.  His 
hand,  reclined  on  the  coverlid,  was  clasped  in  his  wife's, 
who  was  praying  fervently.  Something  in  the  touch  of 
her  hand,  or  the  sound  of  her  murmur,  stirred  the  king 
from  the  growing  lethargj^,  and  his  eyes  opening,  fixed  on 
the  kneeling  lady. 

"  Ah !  "  said  he,  faintly,  "  ever  good,  ever  meek  ! 
Think  not  I  did  not  love  thee ;  hearts  will  be  read 
yonder ;  we  shall  have  our  guerdon." 

The  lady  looked  up  through  her  streaming  tears. 
Edward  released  his  hand,  and  laid  it  on  her  head  as  in 
benediction.  Then,  motioning  to  the  abbot  of  West- 
minster, he  drew  from  his  finger  the  ring  which  the 
palmers  had  brought  to  him,^  and  murmured,  scarce 
audibly, — 

"  Be  this  kept  in  the  house  of  St.  Peter  in  memory  oi 
rae !  " 

"  He  is  alive  now  to  us  —  speak  —  "  whispered   more 
than   one   thegn,  one   abbot,  to  Aired  and    to    Stigand. 
1  "  Brompt.  Chron." 


172  HAKOLD. 

And  Stigand,  as  the  harder  and  more  worldly  man  of  the 
two,  moved  up,  and,  bending  over  the  pillow,  between 
Aired  and  the  king,  said,  — 

"  0  royal  son,  about  to  win  the  crown  to  which  that 
of  earth  is  but  an  idiot's  wreath  of  withered  leaves,  not 
yet  may  thy  soul  forsake  us.  Whom  commendest  thou 
to  us  as  shepherd  to  thy  bereaven  flock  1  —  whom  shall 
we  admonish  to  tread  in  those  traces  thy  footsteps  leave 
below '? " 

The  king  made  a  slight  gesture  of  impatience ;  and  the 
queen,  forgetful  of  all  but  her  womanly  sorrow,  raised  her 
eye  and  finger  in  reproof  that  the  dying  was  thus  dis- 
turbed. But  the  stake  was  too  weighty,  tlie  suspense  too 
keen,  for  that  reverend  delicacy  in  those  around;  and 
the  thegns  pressed  on  each  other,  and  a  murmur  rose 
which  murmured  the  name  of  Harold. 

"  Bethink  thee,  my  son,"  said  Aired,  in  a  tender  voice, 
tremulous  with  emotion ;  "  the  young  Atheling  is  too 
much  an  infant  yet  for  these  anxious  times." 

Eilward  signed  his  head  in  assent. 

"  Then,"  said  the  Norman  bishop  of  London,  who  till 
that  moment  had  stood  in  the  rear,  almost  forgotten 
amongst  the  crowd  of  Saxon  prelates,  but  who  himself 
liad  been  all  eyes  and  ears  —  "  then,"  said  Bishop  Wil- 
liam, advancing,  "  if  thine  own  royal  line  so  ftiil,  who  so 
near  to  thy  love,  vidio  so  worthy  to  succeed,  as  William 
thy  cousin,  the   count   of  the  Normans'?" 

Dark  was  the  scowl  on  the  brow  of  every  thegn,  and  a 
muttered  "  No,  no  :  never  the  Norman  ! "  was  heard  dis- 
tinctly. Harold's  face  flushed,  and  his  hand  was  on  the 
hilt  of  his  ateghar.  But  no  other  sign  gave  he  of  his 
interest  in  the  question. 

The  king  lay  for  some  moments  silent,  but  evidently 
striving  to  re-collect  his  thoughts.     Meanwhile,  the  two 


HAROLD.  173 

archprelates  bent  over  him,  —  Stigand  eagerly,  Aired 
fondly. 

Then,  raising  himself  on  one  arm,  while  with  the  other 
he  pointed  to  Harold  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  the  king 
said, — 

"  Your  hearts,  I  see,  are  with  Harold  the  Earl  :  so  be 

it." 

At  those  words  he  fell  back  on  his  pillow ;  a  loud  shriek 
burst  from  his  wife's  lips  ;  all  crowded  around  ;  he  lay  as 
the  dead. 

At  the  cry,  and  the  indescribable  movement  of  the 
throng,  the  physician  came  quick  from  tlie  lower  part  of 
the  hall.  He  made  his  way  abruptly  to  the  bedside,  and 
said,  chidingly,  "Air,  give  him  air."  The  throng  parted, 
the  leech  moistened  the  king's  pale  lips  with  the  cordial, 
but  no  breath  seemed  to  come  forth,  no  pulse  seemed  to 
beat ;  and  while  the  two  prelates  knelt  before  the  human 
body  and  by  the  blessed  rood,  the  rest  descended  the 
dais,  and  hastened  to  depart.  Harold  only  remained  ;  but 
he  had  passed  from  the  foot  to  the  head  of  the  bed. 

The  crowd  had  gained  the  centre  of  the  hall,  when  a 
sound  that  startled  them,  as  if  it  had  come  from  the 
grave,  chained  every  footstep,  — the  sound  of  the  king's 
voice,  loud,  terribly  distinct,  and  full,  as  with  the  vigor 
of  youth  restored.  All  turned  their  eyes,  appalled ;  all 
stood  spell-bound. 

There  sat  the  king  upright  on  the  bed,  his  face  seen 
above  the  kneeling  prelates,  and  his  eyes  bright  and 
shining  down  the  hall. 

"Yea,"  he  said,  deliberately;  "yea,  as  this  shall  be  a 
real  vision  or  a  false  illusion,  grant  me.  Almighty  One, 
the  power  of  speech  to  tell  it." 

He  paused  a  moment,  and  thus  resumed  :  — 

"  It  was   on  the  banks   of  the   frozen   Seine,  this   day 


174  HAEOLD. 

thirty-and-one  winters  ago,  that  two  holy  monks,  to  whom 
the  gift  of  prophecy  was  vouchsafed,  told  me  of  direful 
woes  that  should  fall  on  England  :  '  For  God,'  said  they, 
*  after  thy  death,  has  delivered  England  into  the  hand  of 
the  enemy,  and  fiends  shall  wander  over  the  land.*  Then 
I  asked  in  my  sorrow,  'Can  nought  avert  the  doom  1  and 
may  not  my  people  free  themselves  by  repentance,  like 
the  jSfinevites  of  old  1 '  And  the  Prophets  answered, 
'  Nay,  nor  shall  the  calamity  cease,  and  the  curse  be 
completed,  till  a  green  tree  be  sundered  in  twain,  and 
the  part  cut  off  be  carried  away  ;  yet  move,  of  itself,  to 
the  ancient  trunk,  unite  to  the  stem,  bud  out  with  the 
blossom,  and  stretch  forth  its  fruit.'  So  said  the  monks ; 
and  even  now,  ere  I  spoke,  I  saw  them  again,  there  stand- 
ing mute,  and  with  the  paleness  of  dead  men,  by  the  side 
of  my  bed  !  " 

These  words  were  said  so  calmly,  and  as  it  were  so 
rationally,  that  their  import  became  doubly  awful  from 
the  cold  precision  of  the  tone.  A  shudder  passed  through 
the  assembly,  and  each  man  shrank  from  the  king's  eye, 
which  seemed  to  each  man  to  dwell  on  himself.  Sud- 
denly that  eye  altered  in  its  cold  beam ;  suddenly  the 
voice  changed  its  deliberate  accent ;  the  gray  hairs  seemed 
to  bristle  erect,  the  whole  face  to  work  with  horror  ;  the 
arms  stretched  forth,  the  form  writhed  on  the  couch,  dis- 
torted fragments  from  tlni  older  Testament  rushed  from 
the  lips  :  "  Sangvelac  f  Sanguelac  / — the  Lake  of  Blood," 
shrieked  forth  the  dying  king  ;  "  the  Lord  hath  bent  His 
bow,  — the  Lord  liath  bared  His  sword.  He  comes  down 
as  a  warrior  to  war,  and  His  wrath  is  in  the  steel  and  the 
flame.  He  boweth  the  mountains,  and  comes  down,  and 
darkness  is  under  His  feet  !  " 

As  if  revived  but  for  these  tremendous  denunciations, 
while   the  last   word  left    his    lips  the  frame  collapsed, 


HAROLD.  175 

the  ej'-es  set,  and  the  king  fell  a  corpse  in  the  arms  of 
Harold. 

But  one  smile  of  the  sceptic  or  the  world-man  was  seen 
on  the  paling  lips  of  those  present :  that  smile  was  not  on 
the  lips  of  warriors  and  men  of  mail.  It  distorted  the 
sharpened  features  of  Stigand,  the  world-man  and  the 
miser,  as,  passing  down  and  amidst  the  group,  he  said, 
"  Tremble  ye  at  the  dreams  of  a  sick  old  man  ] " 


176  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  time  of  year  customaiy  for  the  National  Assembly, 
the  recent  consecration  of  Westminster,  for  which  Edward 
had  convened  all  his  chief  spiritual  lords,  tlie  anxiety  felt 
for  the  infirm  state  of  the  king,  and  the  interest  as  to 
the  impending  succession,  —  all  concurred  to  permit  the 
instantaneous  meeting  of  a  Witan  worthy,  from  rank  and 
numbers,  to  meet  the  emergency  of  the  time,  and  proceed 
to  the  most  momentous  election  ever  yet  known  in  Eng- 
land. The  thegns  and  prelates  met  in  haste.  Harold's 
marriage  with  Aldyth,  wliich  had  taken  place  but  a  few 
weeks  before,  had  united  all  parties  with  his  own  ;  not  a 
claim  counter  to  the  great  earl's  was  advanced,  —  the 
choice  was  unanimous.  The  necessity  of  terminating  at 
such  a  crisis  all  suspense  throughout  the  kingdom,  and 
extinguishing  the  danger  of  all  couuter  intrigues,  forbade 
to  men  thus  united  any  delay  in  solemnizing  their  deci- 
sion ;  and  the  august  obsequies  of  Edward  were  followed 
on  the  same  day  by  the  coronation  of  Harold. 

It  was  in  the  body  of  the  mighty  Abbey  Church,  not 
indeed  as  we  see  it  now,  after  successive  restorations  and 
remodellings,  but  simple  in  its  long  rows  of  Saxon  arch 
and  massive  column,  blending  the  first  Teuton  with  the 
last  Roman  masonries,  that  the  crowd  of  the  Saxon  free- 
men assembled  to  honor  tire  monarch  of  their  choice. 
First  Saxon  king,  since  England  had  been  one  monarchy, 
selected  not  from  the  single  House  of  Cerdic ;  first  Saxon 
king  not  led  to  the  throne  by  the  pale  siiades  of  fabled 


HAROLD.  177 

ancestors  tracing  their  descent  from  the  Father-god  of  the 
Teuton,  but  by  the  spirits  that  never  know  a  grave,  the 
arch-eternal  givers  of  crowns  and  founders  of  dynasties,  — 
Valor  and  Fame. 

Aired  and  Stigand,  the  two  great  prelates  of  the  realm, 
had  conducted  Harold  to  the  church,'  and  up  the  aisle 
to  the  altar,  followed  by  the  chiefs  of  the  Witan  in  their 
long  robes;  and  the  clergy  with  their  abbots  and  bishops 
sang  the  anthems,  "  Fermetur  maims  tua"  and  "  Gloria 
Patrir 

And  now  the  music  ceased ;  Harold  prostrated  himself 
before  tlie  altar,  and  the  sacred  melody  burst  forth  with 
the  great  hymn,  "  Te  Deum." 

As  it  ceased,  prelate  and  thegn  raised  their  chief  from 
the  floor,  and,  in  imitation  of  the  old  custom  of  Teuton 
and  Northman,  —  when  the  lord  of  their  armaments  was 
borne  on  shoulder  and  shield,  —  Harold  mounted  a  plat- 
form, and  rose  in  full  view  of  the  crowd. 

'•'  Thus,"  said  the  archprelate,  "  we  choose  Harold  sou 
of  Godwin  for  lord  and  for  king."  And  the  thegns  drew 
round,  and  placed  hand  on  Harold's  knee,  and  cried  aloud, 
"  We  choose  thee,  0  Harold,  for  lord  and  for  king."  And 
row  by  row,  line  by  line,  all  the  multitude  shouted  forth, 

1  It  seems  by  the  coronation  service  of  Ethelred  II.,  still  extant, 
that  two  bishops  officiated  iu  the  crowning  of  the  king  ;  and  hence, 
perhaps,  the  discrepancy  in  the  chroniclers,  some  contending  that 
Harold  was  crowned  by  Aired, — others,  by  Stigand.  It  is  notice- 
able, however,  that  it  is  the  apologists  of  the  Normans  who  assign 
that  office  to  Stigand,  who  was  in  disgrace  with  the  Po]ie,  and 
deemed  no  lawful  bisliop.  Thus,  in  the  Bayeux  tapestry,  the 
label,  "  Stigand,"  is  significantly  affixed  to  the  officiating  prelate, 
as  if  to  convey  insinuation  that  Harold  was  not  lawfully  crowned. 
Florence,  by  far  the  best  authority,  says  distinctly,  that  Harold 
was  crowned  by  Aired.  The  ceremonial  of  the  coronation  de- 
scribed in  the  text  is  for  the  most  part  given  on  the  authority  of 
the  "Cotton  MS.,"  quoted  by  Sharon  Turner,  vol.  iii.  p.  151. 

VOL.  II.  —  12 


178  HAROLD. 

"  We  choose  thee,  0  Harold,  for  lord  and  king."  So 
there  he  stood,  with  his  cahu  brow,  faciug  all,  Monarch 
of  England,  and  Basileus  of  Britain. 

Now,  unheeded  amidst  the  throng,  and  leaning  against 
a  column  in  the  arches  of  the  aisle,  was  a  woman  with  lier 
veil  round  her  face  ;  and  she  lifted  the  veil  for  a  moment 
to  gaze  on  that  lofty  brow,  and  the  tears  were  streaming 
fast  down  her  cheek,  but  her  face  was  not  sad. 

"  Let  the  vulgar  not  see,  to  pity  or  scorn  thee,  daughter 
of  kings  as  great  as  he  who  abandons  and  forsakes  thee  !  " 
murmured  a  voice  in  her  ear;  and  the  form  of  Hilda, 
needing  no  support  from  column  or  wall,  rose  erect  by 
the  side  of  Edith.  Edith  bowed  her  head  and  lowered 
the  veil,  as  the  king  descended  tlie  platform  and  stood 
again  by  the  altar,  wliile  clear  through  the  hushed  assem- 
bly rang  the  words  of  his  triple  promise  to  his  people : 

"  Peace  to  his  Church  and  the  Christian  flock. 

*'  Interdict  of  rapacity  and  injustice. 

"Equity  and  mercy  in  his  judgments,  as  God  the 
gracious  and  just  might  show  mercy  to  him." 

And  deep  from  the  hearts  of  thousands  came  the  low 
"  Amen." 

Then,  after  a  short  prayer,  which  each  prelate  repeated, 
the  crowd  saw  afar  the  glitter  of  the  crown  held  over  the 
head  of  the  king.  The  voice  of  the  consecrator  was  heard 
low  till  it  came  to  the  words,  "  So  potently  and  royally 
may  he  rule,  against  all  visible  and  invisible  foes,  that  the 
royal  throne  of  the  Angles  and  Saxons  may  not  desert  his 
sceptre." 

As  the  prayer  ceased,  came  the  symbolical  rite  of  anoint- 
ment. Then  pealed  the  sonorous  organ, ^  and  solemn 
along  the  aisles  rose  the  anthem  that  closed  with  the 
chorus,  which  the  voice  of  the  multitude  swelled,  "  May 

^  Introduced  into  our  churches  in  tlie  ninth  century. 


HAROLD.  179 

the  king  live  forever  ! "  Then  the  crown  that  had  gleamed 
in  the  trembling  hand  of  the  prelate,  rested  firm  in  its 
splendor  on  the  front  of  the  king.  And  the  sceptre  of 
rule,  and  the  rod  of  justice,  "  to  soothe  the  pious,  and 
terrify  the  bad,"  were  placed  in  the  royal  hands.  And 
the  prayer  and  the  blessings  were  renewed,  —  till  the 
close ;  "Bless,  Lord,  the  courage  of  this  prince,  and  pros- 
per the  works  of  his  hand.  With  his  horn,  as  the  horn 
of  the  rhinoceros,  may  he  blow  the  waters  to  the  extrem- 
ities of  the  earth  ;  and  may  He  who  has  ascended  to  the 
ekies  be  his  aid  forever  !  " 

Then  Hilda  stretched  forth  her  hand  to  lead  Edith  from 
the  place.     But  Edith  shook  her  head,  and  murmured  : 

"  But  once  again,  but  once  ! "  and  with  involuntary 
step  moved  on. 

Suddenly,  close  where  she  paused,  the  crowd  parted, 
and  down  the  narrow  lane  so  formed  amidst  the  wedged 
and  breathless  crowd  came  the  august  procession:  —  pre- 
late and  thegn  swept  on  from  the  church  to  the  palace  ; 
and  alone,  with  firm  and  measured  step,  the  diadem  on 
his  brow,  the  sceptre  in  his  hand,  came  the  king.  Edith 
checked  the  rushing  impulse  at  her  heart,  but  she  bent 
forward,  with  veil  half  drawn  aside,  and  so  gazed  on  that 
face  and  form  of  more  than  royal  majesty,  fondly,  proudly. 
The  king  swept  on  and  saw  her  not ;  love  lived  no  more 
for  him. 


180  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER  III. 

The  boat  shot  over  the  royal  Thames.  Borne  along  the 
waters,  the  shouts  and  the  hymns  of  swarming  thousands 
from  the  land  shook,  like  a  blast,  the  gelid  air  of  the 
Wolfmonth.  All  space  seemed  filled  and  noisy  with  the 
name  of  Harold  the  King.  Fast  rowed  the  rowers,  on  shot 
the  boat ;  and  Hilda's  face,  stem  and  ominous,  turned  to 
the  still  towers  of  the  palace,  gleaming  wide  and  white 
in  the  wintry  sun.  Suddenly  Edith  lifted  her  hand  from 
her  bosom,  and  said  passionately,  — 

"  Oh  !  mother  of  my  mother,  I  cannot  live  again  in  the 
house  where  the  very  walls  speak  to  me  of  him  ;  all  things 
chain  my  soul  to  the  earth ;  and  my  soul  should  be  in 
heaven,  that  its  prayers  may  be  heard  by  the  heedful 
angels.  The  day  that  the  holy  Lady  of  England  predicted 
hath  come  to  pass,  and  tlie  silver  cord  is  loosed  at  last. 
Ah,  why,  why  did  I  not  believe  her  then?  why  did  I 
then  reject  the  cloister  ?  Yet  no,  I  will  not  repent ;  at 
least  I  have  been  loved  !  But  now  I  will  go  to  the 
nunnery  of  Waltham,  and  kneel  at  the  altars  he  hath 
hallowed  to  the  mone  and  the  monechyn." 

"Edith,"  said  the  Vala,  "thou  wilt  not  bury  thy  life, 
yet  young,  in  the  living  grave !  And,  despite  all  that 
now  severs  you,  —  yea,  despite  Harold's  new  and  loveless 
ties,  —  still  clearer  than  ever,  it  is  written  in  the  heavens 
that  a  day  shall  come,  in  which  you  are  to  be  evermore 
united.  Many  of  the  shapes  I  have  seen,  many  of  the 
sounds  I  have  heard,  in  the  trance  and  the  dream,  fade  in 


HAEOLD.  181 

the  troubled  memory  of  waking  life  !  But  never  yet  hath 
grown  doubtful  or  dim  tlie  prophecy,  that  the  truth 
pledged  by  the  grave  shall  be  fulfilled." 

"Oh,  tempt  not  !  Oh,  delude  not!"  cried  Edith,  while 
thft  blood  rushed  over  her  brow.  "  Tliou  knowest  this 
cannot  be.  Another's  !  he  is  another's  !  and  in  the  words 
thou  hast  uttered  there  is  deadly  sin." 

"  There  is  no  sin  in  the  resolves  of  a  fate  that  rules  us 
in  spite  of  ourselves.  Tarry  only  till  the  year  bring  round 
the  birthday  of  Harold  ;  for  my  sayings  shall  be  ripe 
with  the  grape,  and  when  the  feet  of  the  vine-herd  are  red 
in  the  Month  of  the  Vine,^  the  Nomas  shall  knit  ye 
together  again ! " 

Edith  clasped  her  hands  mutely,  and  looked  hard  into 
the  face  of  Hilda,  —  looked  and  shuddered,  she  knew  not 
why. 

The  boat  landed  on  the  eastern  shore  of  the  river, 
beyond  the  walls  of  the  city,  and  then  Edith  bent  her 
way  to  the  holy  walls  of  Waltham.  The  frost  was  sharp 
in  the  glitter  of  the  unwarining  sun  ;  upon  leafless  boughs 
hung  the  barbed  ice-gems ;  and  the  crown  was  on  the 
brows  of  Harold  !  And  at  niglit,  witliin  the  walls  of  the 
convent,  Edith  heard  the  hymns  of  tlie  kneeling  monks ; 
and  the  blasts  howled,  and  tlie  storm  arose,  and  the  voices 
of  destroying  hurricanes  were  blent  with  the  swell  of  the 
choral  hymns. 

1  The  Wyn-month:  October. 


182  KAKOLD. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

TosTiG  sat  in  the  halls  of  Bruges,  and  with  liim  sat  Judith, 
his  haughty  wife.  The  earl  and  his  countess  were  playing 
at  chess  (or  the  game  resembling  it,  which  amused  the 
idlesso  of  that  age),  and  the  countess  had  put  her  lord's 
game  into  mortal  disorder,  when  Tostig  swept  his  hand 
over  the  board,   and  the  pieces  rolled  on  the  floor. 

"  That  is  one  way  to  prevent  defeat,"  said  Judith,  with 
a  half  smile,  and  half  frown. 

"  It  is  the  way  of  the  bold  and  the  wise,  wife  mine," 
answered  Tostig,  rising ;  "  let  all  be  destruction  where  thou 
thyself  canst  win  not !  Peace  to  these  trifles !  I  cannot 
keep  my  mind  to  the  mock  fight ;  it  flies  to  the  real.  Our 
last  news  sours  the  taste  of  the  wine,  and  steals  the  sleep 
from  my  couch.  It  says  that  Edward  cannot  live  through 
the  winter,  and  that  all  men  bruit  abroad,  there  can  be  no 
king  save  Harold  my  brother." 

"  And  will  thy  brother  as  king  give  to  thee  again  thy 
domain  as  earl  1 " 

"He  must  !  "  answered  Tostig,  "and,  despite  all  our 
breaches,  with  soft  message  he  will.  For  Harold  has  the 
heart  of  the  Saxon,  to  which  the  sons  of  one  father  are 
dear ;  and  Githa,  my  mother,  when  we  first  fled,  con- 
trolled the  voice  of  my  revenge,  and  bade  me  wait  patient 
and  hope  yet." 

Scarce  had  these  words  fallen  from  Tostig's  lips,  when 
the  chief  of  his  Danish  house-carles  came  in,  and  an- 
nounced the  arrival  of  a  bode  from  England. 


HAKOLD.  183 

V 

"  His  news  1  his  news  1  "  cried  the  earl ;  "  with  his 
own  lips  let  him  speak  his  news." 

The  house-carle  withdrew,  but  to  usher  in  the  messenger, 
an  Anglo-Dane. 

"  The  weight  on  thy  brow  shows  the  load  on  thy 
heart,"  cried  Tostig.     "  Speak,  and  be  brief." 

"  Edward  is  dead." 

"  Ha  !  and  who  reigns  1 " 

"  Thy  brother  is  chosen  and  crowned." 

The  face  of  the  earl  grew  red  and  pale  in  a  breath,  and 
successive  emotions  of  envy  and  old  rivalship,  humbled 
pride  and  fierce  discontent,  passed  across  his  turbulent 
heart ;  but  these  died  away  as  the  predominant  thought  of 
self-interest,  and  somewhat  of  that  admiration  for  success 
which  often  seems  like  magnanimity  in  grasping  minds, 
and  something,  too,  of  haughty  exultation,  that  he  stood  a 
king's  brother  in  the  halls  of  his  exile,  came  to  chase  away 
the  more  hostile  and  menacing  feelings.  Then  Judith 
approached,  with  joy  on  her  brow,  and  said  :  — 

"  We  shall  no  more  eat  the  bread  of  dependence  even 
at  the  hand  of  a  father ;  and  since  Harold  hath  no  dame  to 
proclaim  to  the  Church,  and  to  place  on  the  dais,  thy  wife, 
O  my  Tostig,  will  have  state  in  fair  England  little  less  than 
her  sister  in  Rouen." 

"  Methinks  so  will  it  be,"  said  Tostig.  "  How  now, 
nuncius  1  why  lookest  thou  so  grim,  and  why  shakest  tliou 
thy  head  ? " 

"  Small  chance  for  thy  dame  to  keep  state  in  the  halls  of 
the  king  ;  small  hope  for  thyself  to  win  back  thy  broad 
earldom.  But  a  few  weeks  ere  thy  brother  won  the  crown, 
he  won  also  a  bride  in  the  house  of  thy  spoiler  and  foe. 
Aldyth,  the  sister  of  Edwin  and  Morcar,  is  Lady  of 
England ;  and  that  union  shuts  thee  out  from  Northumbria 
forever." 


184  HAROLD. 

At  these  words,  as  if  stricken  by  some  deadly  and 
inexpressible  insult,  the  earl  recoiled,  and  stood  a  mo- 
ment mute  with  rage  and  amaze.  His  singular  beauty 
became  distorted  into  the  lineaments  of  a  fiend.  He 
stamped  with  his  foot  as  he  thundered  a  terrible  curse. 
Then  haughtily  waving  his  hand  to  the  bode,  in  sign 
of  dismissal,  he  strode  to  and  fro  the  room  in  gloomy 
perturbation. 

Judith,  like  her  sister  Matilda,  a  woman  fierce  and 
vindictive,  continued,  by  that  sharp  venom  that  lies  in 
the  tongue  of  the  sex,  to  incite  still  more  the  intense 
resentment  of  her  lord.  Perhaps  some  female  jealousies 
of  Aldyth  might  contribute  to  increase  her  own  indig- 
nation. But  without  such  frivolous  addition  to  anger, 
there  was  cause  enow  in  this  marriage  thoroughly  to 
complete  the  alienation  between  the  king  and  his  brother. 
It  was  impossible  that  one  so  revengeful  as  Tostig  should 
not  cherish  the  deepest  animosity,  not  only  against  the 
people  that  had  rejected,  but  the  new  earl  that  had 
succeeded  him.  In  wedding  the  sister  of  this  fortunate 
rival  and  despoiler,  Harold  could  not,  therefore,  but  gall 
him  in  his  most  sensitive  sores  of  soul.  The  king,  thus, 
formally  approved  and  sanctioned  his  ejection,  solemnly 
took  part  with  liis  foe,  robbed  him  of  all  legal  chance  of 
recovering  his  dominions,  and,  in  the  words  of  the  bode, 
"  shut  him  out  from  Northumbria  forever."  Nor  was  this 
even  all.  Grant  his  return  to  England,  grant  a  reconcilia- 
tion with  Harold,  —  still  those  abhorred  and  more  fortu- 
nate enemies,  necessarily  made  now  the  most  intimate  part 
of  the  king's  family,  must  be  most  in  his  confidence, 
would  curb  and  chafe  and  encounter  Tostig  in  every  scheme 
for  liis  personal  aggrandizement.  His  foes,  in  a  word* 
were  in  the  camp  of  his  brother. 

While  gnasliing  his  teeth  with  a  wrath  the  more  deadly 


HAROLD.  185 

because  he  saw  not  yet  his  way  to  retribution,  Juditli, 
pursuing  the  separate  thread  of  her  own  cogitations, 
said,  — 

"  And  if  my  sister's  lord,  the  count  of  the  Normans, 
had,  as  rightly  he  ought  to  have,  succeeded  his  cousin  the 
Monk-king,  then  I  should  have  a  sister  on  the  throne, 
and  thou  in  her  husband  a  brother  more  tender  than 
Harold,  —  one  who  supports  his  barons  with  sword  and 
mail,  and  gives  the  villeins  rebelling  against  them  but  the 
brand  and  the  cord." 

"  Ho  !  "  cried  Tostig,  stopping  suddenly  in  his  dis- 
ordered strides  ;  "  kiss  me,  wife,  for  those  words  !  They 
have  helped  me  to  power,  and  lit  me  to  revenge.  If  thou 
wouldst  send  love  to  thy  sister,  take  graphium  and  parch- 
ment, and  write  fast  as  a  scribe.  Ere  the  sun  is  an  hour 
older,  I  am  on  my  road  to  Count  William." 


186  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  Duke  of  the  Normans  was  in  the  forest,  or  park-land 
of  Rouvray,  and  his  quens  and  his  knights  stood  around 
him,  expecting  some  new  proof  of  his  strength  and  his 
skill  with  the  bow ;  for  the  duke  was  trying  some  arrows, 
a  weapon  he  was  ever  employed  in  seeking  to  improve  ; 
sometimes  shortening,  sometimes  lengthening  the  shaft, 
and  suiting  the  wing  of  the  feather,  and  the  weight  of  the 
point,  to  the  nicest  re6nement  iu  the  law  of  mechanics. 
Gay  and  debonair,  in  the  brisk,  fresh  air  of  the  frosty 
•winter,  the  great  count  jested  and  laughed  as  the  squires 
fastened  a  live  bird  by  the  string  to  a  stake  in  the  distant 
sward  ;  and  "  Pardex"  said  Duke  William,  "  Conan  of 
Bretagne,  and  Philip  of  France,  leave  us  now  so  unkindly 
in  peace,  that  I  trow  we  shall  never  again  have  larger 
butt  for  our  arrows  than  the  breast  of  yon  poor  plumed 
trembler." 

As  the  duke  spoke  and  laughed,  all  the  sere  boughs 
behind  him  rattled  and  cranched,  and  a  horse  at  full 
speed  came  rushing  over  the  hard  rime  of  the  sward.  The 
duke's  smile  vanished  in  the  frown  of  his  pride.  "  Bold 
rider  and  graceless,"  quoth  he,  "  who  thus  comes  in  the 
presence  of  counts  and  princes  !  " 

Right  up  to  Duke  Wilham  spurred  the  rider,  and  then 
leaped  from  his  steed  :  vest  and  mantle,  yet  more  rich 
than  the  duke's,  all  tattered  and  soiled.  Xo  knee  bent 
the  rider,  no  cap  did  he  doff;  but,  seizing  the  startled 


HAEOLD.  187 

Norman  with  the  gripe  of  a  hand  as  strong  as  his  own,  he 
led  him  aside  from  the  courtiers,  and  said,  — 

"Thou  knowest  me,  William  1  though  not  thus  alone 
should  I  come  to  thy  court,  if  I  did  not  bring  thee  a 
crown." 

"Welcome,  brave  Tostig!"  said  the  duke,  marvelling. 
"  What  meanest  thou  1  nought  but  good,  by  thy  words 
and  thy  smile." 

"  Eiiward  sleeps  with  the  dead  !  —  and  Harold  is  king 
of  aU  England  !  " 

"  King  !  —  England  !  —  King  !  "  faltered  William,  stam- 
mering in  his  agitation.  "  Edward  dead  !  —  Saints  rest 
liim  !  England  then  is  mine  /  King  !  —  /am  the  king  ! 
Harold  hath  sworn  it  :  my  quens  and  prelates  heard  him  ! 
the  bones  of  the  saints  attest  the  oath  !  " 

"Somewhat  of  this  have  I  vaguely  learned  from  our 
beau  pere  Count  Baldwin;  more  will  I  learn  at  thy 
leisure;  but  take,  meanwhile,  my  word  as  miles  and 
Saxon,  —  never,  while  there  is  breath  on  his  lips  or  one 
beat  in  his  heart,  will  my  brother,  Lord  Harold,  give  an 
inch  of  English  land  to  the  Norman." 

William  turned  pale  and  faint  with  emotion,  and  leaned 
for  support  against  a  leafless  oak. 

Busy  were  the  rumors  and  anxious  the  watch  of  the 
quens  and  knights,  as  their  prince  stood  long  in  the  dis- 
tant glade,  conferring  with  the  rider,  Avhom  one  or  two 
of  them  had  recognized  as  Tostig,  the  spouse  of  Matilda's 
sister. 

At  length,  side  by  side,  still  talking  earnestly,  they 
regained  the  group  ;  and  William,  summoning  the  Lord 
of  Tancarville,  bade  him  conduct  Tostig  to  Rouen,  the 
towers  of  which  rose  through  the  forest  trees.  "  Rest  and 
refresh  thee,  noble  kinsman,"  said  the  duke;  "see  and 
talk  with  Matilda.     I  will  join  thee  anon." 


188  HAROLD. 


The  earl  remounted  his  steed,  and,  saluting  the  company 
with  a  wild  and  hasty  grace,  soon  vanished  amidst  the 


groves, 


Then  William,  seating  himself  on  the  sward,  mechan- 
ically unstrung  his  how,  sighing  oft,  and  oft  frowning ; 
and,  without  vouchsafing  other  word  to  his  lords  than, 
"  No  further  sport  to-day  !  "  rose  slowly,  and  went  alone 
through  the  thickest  parts  of  the  forest.  But  his  faithful 
Fitzoshorne  marked  his  gloom,  and  fondly  followed  him. 
The  duke  arrived  at  the  borders  of  the  Seine,  where  his 
galley  waited  him.  He  entered,  sat  down  on  the  bench, 
and  took  no  notice  of  Fitzoshorne,  who  quietly  stepped 
in  after  his  lord,  and  placed  himself  on  anotlier  bench. 

The  little  voyage  to  Rouen  was  perff)rmed  in  silence  ; 
and  as  soon  as  he  had  gained  his  palace,  without  seeking 
either  Tostig  or  Matilda,  the  duke  turned  into  the  vast 
hall,  in  which  he  was  wont  to  hold  council  with  his 
barons  ;  and  walked  to  and  fro,  "  often,"  say  the  chron- 
icles, "  changing  posture  and  attitude,  and  oft  loosening 
and  tightening,  and  drawing  into  knots,  the  strings  of 
his  mantle." 

Fitzoshorne,  meanwhile,  had  sought  the  ex-earl,  who 
was  closeted  with  Matilda  ;  and  now  returning,  he  went 
bolilly  up  to  the  duke,  whom  no  one  else  dared  approach, 
and  said,  — 

"  Why,  my  liege,  seek  to  conceal  what  is  already  known, 
—  what  ere  the  eve  will  be  in  the  mouths  of  all  1  You 
are  troubled  that  Edward  is  dead,  and  that  Harold, 
violating  his  oath,  has  seized  the  English  realm." 

"  Truly,"  said  the  duke,  mildly,  and  with  the  tone  of 
a  meek  man  much  injured,  "  my  dear  cousin's  death, 
and  the  wrongs  I  have  received  from  Harold,  touch  me 
nearly." 

Then  said  Fitzoshorne,  with  that  philosophy,  half  grave 


HAKOLD.  189 

as  became  the  Scandinavian,  half  gay  as  became  the 
Frank  :  "  No  man  should  grieve  for  what  he  can  help,  — 
still  less  for  what  he  cannot  help.  For  Edward's  death, 
I  trow,  remedy  there  is  none  ;  but  for  Harold's  treason, 
yea  !  Have  you  not  a  noble  host  of  knights  and  war- 
riors ]  What  want  you  to  destroy  the  Saxon  and  seize  his 
realm  1  What  but  a  bold  heart  1  A  great  deed  once  well 
begun  is  half  done.  Begin,  count  of  the  Normans,  and 
we  will  complete  the  rest." 

Starting  from  his  sorely  tasked  dissimulation,  —  for  all 
William  needed,  and  all  of  wliich  he  doubted,  was  the 
aid  of  his  haughty  barons,  —  the  duke  raised  his  head, 
and  his  eyes  shone  out.  "  Ha,  sayest  thou  so  !  then,  by 
the  splendor  of  God,  we  will  do  this  deed.  Haste  thou, 
rouse  hearts,  nerve  hands,  —  promise,  menace,  win ! 
Broad  are  the  lands  of  England,  and  generous  a  con- 
queror's hand.  Go  and  prepare  all  my  faithful  lords  for 
a  council,  nobler  than  ever  yet  stirred  the  hearts  and 
strung  the  hands  of  the  sons  of  Eou." 


190  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Brief  was  the  sojourn  of  Tostig  at  the  court  of  Rouen  ; 
speedily  made,  the  contract  between  the  grasping  duke 
and  the  revengeful  traitor.  All  that  had  been  promised 
to  Harold  was  now  pledged  to  Tostig,  —  if  the  last  would 
assist  the  Norman  to  the  English  throne. 

At  heart,  however,  Tostig  was  ill  satisfied.  His  chance 
conversations  with  the  principal  barons,  who  seemed  to 
look  upon  the  conquest  of  England  as  the  dream  of  a 
madman,  showed  him  how  doubtful  it  was  that  William 
could  induce  his  quens  to  a  service,  to  which  the  tenure 
of  their  fiefs  did  not  appear  to  compel  them  ;  and  at  all 
events,  Tostig  prognosticated  delays  that  little  suited  his 
fiery  impatience.  He  accepted  the  offer  of  some  two  or 
three  ships  which  William  put  at  his  disposal,  under  pre- 
tence to  reconnoitre  the  Northumbrian  coasts,  and  there 
attempt  a  rising  in  his  own  favor.  But  his  discontent 
was  increased  by  the  smallness  of  the  aid  afforded  him  ; 
for  William,  ever  suspicious,  distrusted  both  his  faith 
and  his  power.  Tostig,  with  all  his  vices,  was  a  poor 
dissimulator,  and  his  sullen  spirit  betrayed  itself  when 
he  took  leave  of  his  host. 

"  Chance  what  may,"  said  the  fierce  Saxon,  "no  stran- 
ger shall  seize  the  English  crown  without  my  aid.  I  offer 
it  first  to  thee ;  but  thou  must  come  to  take  it  in  time, 
or—" 

*'  Or  what  1 "  asked  the  duke,  gnawing  his  lip. 


HAROLD.  191 

"  Or  the  Father  race  of  Rou  will  be  before  thee  !  My 
horse  paws  without.  Farewell  to  thee,  Norman ;  sharpen 
thy  swords,  hew  out  thy  vessels,  and  goad  thy  slow 
barons." 

Scarce  had  Tostig  departed,  ere  William  began  to  repent 
that  he  had  so  let  him  depart ;  but  seeking  counsel  of 
Lanfranc,  that  wise  minister  reassured  him. 

"  Fear  no  rival,  son  and  lord,"  said  he.  "  The  bones 
of  the  dead  are  on  thy  side,  and  little  thou  knowest,  as 
yet,  how  mighty  their  fleshless  arms  !  All  Tostig  can  do 
is  to  distract  the  forces  of  Harold.  Leave  him  to  work 
out  his  worst ;  nor  then  be  in  haste.  ]\Iuch  hath  yet  to  be 
done,  —  cloud  must  gather  and  fire  must  form,  ere  the 
bolt  can  be  launched.  Send  to  Harold  mildly,  and  gently 
remind  him  of  oath  and  of  relics,  —  of  treaty  and  pledge. 
Put  right  on  thy  side,  and  then  —  " 

"  Ah,  what  then  1 " 

"  Rome  shall  curse  the  foresworn, —  Rome  shall  hallow 
thy  banner ;  this  be  no  strife  of  force  against  force,  but  a 
war  of  religion  ;  and  thou  shalt  have  on  thy  side  the  con- 
science of  man,  and  the  arm  of  the  Church." 

Meanwhile,  Tostig  embarked  at  Harfleur  ;  but  instead 
of  sailing  to  the  nothern  coasts  of  England,  he  made  for 
one  of  the  Flemish  ports  :  and  there,  under  various  pre- 
tences, new  manned  the  Norman  vessels  with  Flemings, 
Fins,  and  Northmen.  His  meditations  during  his  voyage 
had  decided  him  not  to  trust  to  William  ;  and  he  now 
bent  his  course,  with  fair  wind  and  favoring  weather 
to  the  shores  of  his  maternal  uncle.  King  Sweyn  of 
Denmark. 

In  truth,  to  all  probable  calculation,  his  change  of  pur- 
pose was  politic.  The  fleets  of  England  were  numerous, 
and  her  seamen  renowned.  The  Normans  had  neither 
experience  nor  fame  in  naval  fights  ;  their  navy  itself  was 


192  HAROLD. 

scarcely  formed.  Thus,  even  William's  landing  in  England 
was  an  enterprise  arduous  and  dubious.  Moreover,  even 
granting  the  amplest  success,  would  not  this  Norman 
prince,  so  profound  and  ambitious,  be  a  more  troublesome 
lord  to  Earl  Tostig  than  his  own  uncle  Swe^'n  1 

So,  forgetful  of  the  compact  at  Rouen,  no  sooner  had 
the  Saxon  lord  come  in  presence  of  the  king  of  the  Danes, 
than  he  urged  on  his  kinsman  the  glory  of  winning  again 
the  sceptre  of  Canute. 

A  brave  but  a  cautious  and  wily  veteran  was  King 
Sweyn  ;  and  a  few  days  before  Tostig  arrived,  he  had 
received  letters  from  his  sister  Githa,  who,  true  to  God- 
win's command,  had  held  all  that  Harold  did  and  coun- 
selled, as  between  himself  and  his  brother,  wise  and  just. 

These  letters  had  placed  the  Dane  on  his  guard,  and 
shown  him  the  true  state  of  affairs  in  England.  So  Kinii 
Sweyn,  smiling,  thus  answered  his  nephew  Tostig  :  — 

"  A  great  man  was  Canute,  a  small  man  am  I :  scarce 
can  I  keep  my  Danish  dominion  from  the  gripe  of  the 
Norwegian,  while  Canute  took  Norway  without  slash 
and  blow  ;  ^  but,  great  as  he  was,  England  cost  him  hard 
fighting  to  win,  and  sore  peril  to  keep.  Wherefore,  best 
for  the  small  man  to  rule  by  the  light  of  his  own  little 
sense,  nor  venture  to  count  on  the  luck  of  great  Canute  ; 
—  for  luck  but  goes  with  the  great." 

"■  Thine  answer,"  said  Tostig,  with  a  bitter  sneer,  "  is 
not  what  I  expected  from  an  uncle  and  warrior.  But  other 
chiefs  may  be  found  less  afraid  of  the  luck  of  high  deeds." 

"  So,"  saith  the  Norwegian  chronicler,  "not  just  the 
best  friends,  the  earl  left  the  king,"  and  went  on  in  haste 
to  Harold  Hardrada  of  Norway. 

True  Hero  of  the  North,  true  Darling  of  War  and  of 
Song,  was    Harold  Hardrada  !      At  the  terrible  battle  of 
1  Snorro  Sturleson.     Laing. 


HAROLD.  193 

Stiklestad,  at  which  his  brother,  St.  Olave,  had  fallen, 
he  was  but  fifteen  years  of  age,  but  his  body  was  covered 
with  the  wounds  of  a  veteran.  Escaping  from  the  field,  he 
lay  concealed  in  the  house  of  a  Bonder  peasant,  remote  in 
deep  forests,  till  his  wounds  were  healed.  Thence,  chanting 
by  the  way  (for  a  poet's  soul  burned  right  in  Hardrada), 
"  that  a  day  would  come  when  his  name  would  be  great  in 
the  land  he  now  left,"  he  went  on  into  Sweden,  thence  into 
Russia,  and,  after  wild  adventures  in  the  East,  joined  with 
the  bold  troop  he  had  collected  around  him,  that  famous 
body-guard  of  the  Greek  emperors,  ^  called  the  Vsering- 
ers,  and  of  these  he  became  the  chief.  Jealousies  be- 
tween himself  and  the  Greek  general  of  the  Imperial  forces 
(whom  the  Norwegian  chronicler  calls  Gyrger),  ended  in 
Harold's  retirement  with  his  Vseringers  into  the  Saracen 
land  of  Africa.  Eighty  castles  stormed  and  taken,  vast 
plunder  in  gold  and  in  jewels,  and  nobler  meed  in  the  song 
of  the  Scald  and  the  praise  of  the  brave,  attested  the  prowess 
of  the  great  Scandinavian.  New  laurels,  blood-stained; 
new  treasures,  sword-won,  awaited  him  in  Sicily  ;  and 
thence,  rough  foretype  of  the  coming  Crusader,  he  passed 
on  to  Jerusalem.  His  sword  swept  before  him  Moslem 
and  robber.  He  batlied  in  Jordan,  and  knelt  at  the 
Holy  Cross. 

Returned  to  Constantinople,  the  desire  for  his  nothern 
home  seized  Hardrada.     There  he  heard  that  his  nephew 

1  The  Vajriugers,  or  Varangi,  mostly  Nortlimen ;  this  redoubt- 
able force,  the  Janissaries  of  the  Byzantine  empire,  afforded 
brilliant  field,  both  of  fortune  and  war,  to  the  discontented  spirits 
or  outlawed  heroes  of  the  north.  It  was  joined  afterwards  by 
many  of  the  bravest  and  best  born  of  the  Saxon  noliles,  refusing 
to  dwell  under  the  yoke  of  the  Norman.  Scott,  in  "  Count  Robert 
of  Paris,"  which,  if  not  one  of  his  best  romances,  is  yet  full  of 
truth  and  beauty,  has  described  this  renowned  band  with  much 
poetical  vigor  and  historical  fidelity. 

VOL.  II.  — 13 


194  HAROLD. 

Magnus,  the  illegitimate  son  of  St.  Olave,  had  become 
king  of  jSTorway, — and  he  himself  asjiired  to  a  throne. 
So  he  gave  up  his  command  under  Zoe  the  empress  ;  but, 
if  Scald  be  believed,  Zoe  the  empress  loved  the  bold  chief, 
whose  heart  was  set  on  Maria  her  niece.  To  detain  Har- 
drada,  a  charge  of  malappropriation,  whether  of  pay  or  of 
booty,  was  brought  against  him.  He  was  cast  into  prison. 
But  when  the  brave  are  in  danger,  the  saints  send  the  fair 
to  their  help !  Moved  by  a  holy  dream,  a  Greek  lady 
lowered  ropes  from  the  roof  of  the  tower  to  the  dungeon 
wherein  Hardrada  was  cast.  He  escaped  from  the  prison, 
he  aroused  his  Veeringers,  they  flocked  round  their  chief  ; 
he  went  to  the  house  of  his  lady  Maria,  bore  her  off  to 
the  galley,  put  out  into  the  Black  Sea,  reached  iS'ovgorod 
(at  the  friendly  court  of  whose  king  he  had  safely  lodged 
his  vast  spoils),  sailed  home  to  the  north  ;  and,  after  such 
feats  as  became  sea-king  of  old,  received  half  of  Norway 
from  Magnus ;  and,  on  the  death  of  his  nephew,  the 
whole  of  that  kingdom  passed  to  his  sway.  A  king  so 
wise  and  so  wealthy,  so  bold  and  so  dread,  had  never  yet 
been  known  in  the  north.  And  this  was  the  king  to 
whom  came  Tostig  the  Earl  with  the  offer  of  England's 
crown. 

It  was  one  of  the  glorious  nights  of  the  north,  and 
winter  had  already  begun  to  melt  into  early  spring,  when 
two  men  sat  under  a  kind  of  rustic  porch  of  rough  pine- 
logs,  not  very  unlike  those  seen  now  in  Switzerland  and 
the  Tyrol.  This  porch  was  constructed  before  a  private 
door,  to  the  rear  of  a  long,  low,  irregular  building  of 
wood,  which  enclosed  two  or  more  courtyards,  and  cover- 
ing an  immense  space  of  ground.  This  private  door 
seemed  placed  for  the  purpose  of  immediate  descent  to 
the  sea ;  for  the  ledge  of  the  rock,  over  which  the  log- 
porch  spread  its  rude  roof,  jutted  over   the  ocean ;  and 


HAROLD.  195 

from  it  a  rugged  stair,  cut  through  the  crag,  descended 
to  the  beach.  The  shore,  with  bold,  strange,  grotesque 
shib,  and  peak,  and  splinter,  curved  into  a  large  creek  ; 
and  close  under  the  cliff  were  moored  seven  war-ships, 
high  and  tall,  with  prows  and  sterns  all  gorgeous  with 
gilding  in  the  light  of  the  splendid  moon.  And  that 
rude  timber  house,  which  seemed  but  a  chain  of  barbarian 
huts  linked  into  one,  was  a  land  palace  of  Hardrada  of 
Norway ;  but  the  true  halls  of  his  royalty,  the  true  seats 
of  his  empire,  were  the  decks  of  those  lofty  war-ships. 

Through  the  small  lattice-work  of  the  windows  of  the 
log-house,  lights  blazed  ;  from  the  roof-top  smoke  curled  ; 
from  the  hall  on  the  other  side  of  the  dwelling  came  the 
din  of  tumultous  wassail,  but  the  intense  stillness  of  the 
outer  air,  hushed  in  frost,  and  luminous  with  stars,  con- 
trasted and  seemed  to  rebuke  the  gross  sounds  of  human 
revel.  And  that  northern  night  seemed  almost  as  bright 
as  (but  how  mucli  more  augustly  calm,  than)  the  noon  of 
the  golden  south ! 

On  a  table,  within  the  ample  porch,  was  an  immense 
bowl,  of  Ijirch-wood  mounted  in  silver,  and  filled  with 
potent  drink ;  and  two  huge  horns,  of  size  suiting  the 
mighty  wassailers  of  the  age.  The  two  men  seemed  to 
care  nought  for  the  stern  air  of  the  cold  night,  —  true 
that  they  were  wrapped  in  furs,  reft  from  the  polar  bear. 
But  each  had  hot  thoughts  within,  that  gave  greater 
warmth  to  the  veins  than  the  bowl  or  the  bear-skin. 

They  were  host  and  guest ;  and,  as  if  with  the  restless- 
ness of  his  thoughts,  the  host  rose  from  his  seat,  and 
passed  through  the  porch  and  stood  on  the  bleak  rock 
under  the  light  of  the  moon  ;  and,  so  seen,  he  seemed 
scarcel}'  human,  but  some  war-chief  of  the  farthest  time, 
—  yea,  of  a  time  ere  the  deluge  had  shivered  those  rocks, 
and  left  beds  on  the  laud  for  the  realm  of  that  icy  sea. 


196  HAROLD. 

For  Harold  HarJrada  was,  in  height,  above  all  the  chil- 
dren of  modern  men.  Five  ells  of  IS^orvvay  made  the 
height  of  Harold  Hardrada.^  Nov  was  this  stature  accom- 
panied by  any  of  those  imperfections  in  symmetry,  nor  by 
that  heaviness  of  aspect,  which  generally  render  any 
remarkable  excess  above  human  stature  and  strength, 
rather  monstrous  than  commanding.  On  the  contrary, 
his  proportions  were  just,  his  appearance  noble;  and  the 
sole  defect  that  the  chronicler  remarks  in  his  shape,  was 
"  that  his  hands  and  feet  were  large,  but  these  were  well 
made."^ 

His  face  had  all  the  fair  beauty  of  the  Norseman ;  his 
hair,  parted  in  locks  of  gold  over  a  brow  that  bespoke  the 
daring  of  the  warrior  and  the  genius  of  the  bard,  fell  in 
glittering  profusion  to  his  shoulders ;  a  short  beard  and 
long  mustache  of  the  same  color  as  the  hair,  carefully 
trimmed,  added  to  the  grand  and  masculine  beauty  of  the 
countenance,  in  which  the  only  blemish  was  the  pecu- 
liarity of  one  eyebrow  being  somewhat  higher  than  the 
other,3  which  gave  something  more  sinister  to  his  frown, 
something  more  arch  to  his  smile.  For,  quick  of  impulse, 
the  Poet-Titan  smiled  and  frowned  often. 

Harold  Hardrada  stood  in  the  light  of  the  moon,  and 
gazing  thoughtfully  on  the  luminous  sea.     Tostig  marked 

1  Laing's  Snorro  Sturleson.  "  The  old  Norwegian  ell  was 
less  than  the  present  ell ;  and  Thorlasius  reckons,  in  a  note  ou 
this  chapter,  tliat  Harold's  stature  would  be  ahout  four  Danish 
ells,  — namely,  about  eight  feet."  Laing's  note  to  the  text.  Allow- 
ing for  the  exaggeration  of  the  chronicler,  it  seems  probable,  at 
least,  that  Hardrada  exceeded  seven  feet ;  since  (as  Laiug  remarks 
in  the  same  note,  and  as  we  shall  see  hereafter)  "  our  English 
Harold  offered  him,  according  to  both  English  and  Danisli  autlior- 
ity,  seven  feet  of  land  for  a  grave,  or  aft  much  more  as  his  stature 
exceeding  that  of  other  men  might  require." 

^  Snorro  Sturleson. 

^  Snorro  Sturleson. 


HAROLD.  197 

him  for  some  moments  where  he  sat  in  the  porch,  and 
then  rose  and  joined  him. 

"  Why  should  my  words  so  disturb  thee,  0  king  of  the 
Norseman  ? " 

"Is  glory,  then,  a  drug  that  soothes  to  sleej)  ? "  re- 
turned the  Norwegian. 

"  I  like  thine  answer,"  said  Tostig,  smiling,  "  and  I 
like  still  more  to  watch  thine  eye  gazing  on  the  prows  of 
thy  war-ships.  Strange  indeed  it  were,  if  thou,  who 
hast  been  fighting  fifteen  years  for  the  petty  kingdom  of 
Denmark,  should  hesitate  now,  when  all  England  lies 
before  thee  to  seize." 

"  I  hesitate,"  replied  the  king,  "  because  he  whom  for- 
tune has  befriended  so  long,  should  beware  how  he  strain 
her  favors  too  far.  Eighteen  pitched  battles  fought  I  in 
the  Saracen  land,  and  in  every  one  was  a  victor,  —  never, 
at  home  or  abroad,  have  I  known  shame  and  defeat. 
Doth  the  wind  always  blow  from  one  point? — and  is 
fate  less  unstable  than  the  wind?" 

"Now  out  on  thee,  Harold  Hardvada,"  said  Tostig  the 
fierce ;  "  the  good  pilot  wins  his  way  through  all  winds, 
and  the  brave  heart  fastens  fate  to  its  flag.  All  men 
allow  that  the  North  never  had  warrior  like  thee ;  and 
now,  in  the  mid-day  of  manhood,  wilt  thou  consent  to 
repose  on  the  mere  triumph  of  youth  ?" 

"  Nay,"  said  the  king,  who,  like  all  true  poets,  had 
something  of  the  deep  sense  of  a  sage,  and  was  indeed 
regarded  as  the  most  prudent  as  well  as  the  most  adven- 
turous chief  in  the  North  land,  —  "  nay,  it  is  not  by  such 
words,  which  my  soul  seconds  too  well,  that  thou  canst 
entrap  a  ruler  of  men.  Thou  must  sliow  me  the  chances 
of  success,  as  thou  w^ouldst  to  a  gray-beard.  For  we 
should  be  as  old  men  before  we  engage,  and  as  youths 
when  we  wish  to  perform." 


198  HAROLD. 

Then  the  traitor  succinctly  detailed  all  the  weak  points 
in  the  rule  of  his  brother.  A  treasury  exhausted  by  the 
lavish  and  profitless  waste  of  Edward  ;  a  land  without 
castle  or  bulwark,  even  at  the  mouths  of  the  rivers  ;  a 
people  grown  inert  by  long  peace,  and  so  accustomed  to 
own  lord  and  king  in  the  northern  invaders,  that  a  single 
successful  battle  might  induce  half  the  population  to 
insist  on  the  Saxon  coming  to  terms  with  the  foe ;  and 
yielding,  as  Ironside  did  to  Canute,  one  half  of  the  realm. 
He  enlarged  on  the  terror  of  the  j^orsemen  that  still 
existed  throughout  England,  and  the  afhuity  between  the 
Northumbrians  and  East  Anglians  with  the  race  of  Har- 
drada.  That  affinity  would  not  prevent  them  from 
resisting  at  the  first ;  but  grant  success,  and  it  would 
reconcile  them  to  the  after-sway.  And,  finally,  he 
aroused  Hardrada's  emulation  by  the  spur  of  the  news, 
that  the  count  of  the  Normans  would  seize  the  prize  if  he 
himself  delayed  to  forestall  him. 

These  various  representations,  and  the  remembrance  of 
Canute's  victory,  decided  Hardrada  ;  and,  when  Tostig 
ceased,  he  stretched  his  hand  towards  his  slumbering  war- 
ships, and  exclaimed,  — 

"  Eno' ;  you  have  whetted  the  beaks  of  the  ravens,  and 
harnessed  the  steeds  of  the  sea  !  " 


HAROLD.  199 


CHAPTER  VIL 

Meanwhile  King  Harold  of  England  had  made  himself 
dear  to  his  people,  and  been  true  to  the  fame  he  had  won 
as  Harold  the  Earl.  From  the  moment  of  his  accession 
"he  showed  himself  pious,  humble,  and  affable,^  and 
omitted  no  occasions  to  show  any  token  of  bounteous 
liberality,  gentleness,  and  courteous  behavior."  —  "The 
grievous  customs  also,  and  taxes  which  his  predecessors 
had  raised,  he  either  abolished  or  diminished  ;  the  ordi- 
nary wages  of  his  servants  and  men  of  war  he  increased, 
and  further  showed  himself  very  well  bent  to  all  virtue 
and  goodness."  ^ 

Extracting  the  pith  from  these  eulogies,  it  is  clear  that, 
as  wise  statesman  no  less  than  as  good  king,  Harold 
sought  to  strengthen  himself  in  the  three  great  elements 
of  regal  power  :  conciliation  of  the  Church,  which  had 
been  opposed  to  his  father;  the  popular  affection,  on 
which  his  sole  claim  to  the  crown  reposed ;  and  the  mili- 
tary force  of  the  land,  which  had  been  neglected  in  the 
reign  of  his  peaceful  predecessor. 

To  the  young  Atheling  he  accorded  a  respect  not 
before  paid  to  him ;  and  while  investing  the  descendant 
of  the  ancient  line  with  princely  state,  and  endowing  him 
with  large  domains,  his  soul,  too  great  for  jealousy,  sought 
to  give  more  substantial  power  to  his  own  most  legitimate 

1  Hoveden. 

2  Holinshed.  Nearly  all  chroniclers  (even,  with  scarce  an  ex- 
ception, those  most  favoring  the  Normans)  concifr  in  the  abilities 
and  merits  of  Harold  as  a  kiug. 


200  HAROLD, 

rival,  by  tender  care  and  noble  counsels,  — by  efforts  to 
raise  a  character  feeble  by  nature,  and  denationalized  by 
foreign  rearing.  In  the  same  broad  and  generous  policy, 
Harold  encouraged  all  the  merchants  from  other  countries 
who  had  settled  in  England,  nor  were  even  such  Normans 
as  had  escaped  the  general  sentence  of  banishment  on 
Godwin's  return,  disturbed  in  their  possessions.  "  In 
brief,"  saith  the  Anglo-Norman  chronicler,-^  "  no  man  was 
more  prudent  in  the  land,  more  valiant  in  arms,  in  the 
law  more  sagacious,  in  all  probity  more  accomplished  ; " 
and  "  ever  active,"  says  more  mournfully  the  Saxon 
writer,  "  for  tbe  good  of  his  country,  he  spared  himself 
no  fatigue  by  land  or  by  sea."  ^ 

From  this  time  Harold's  private  life  ceased.  Love  and 
its  charms  were  no  more.  The  glow  of  romance  had 
vanished.  He  was  not  one  man  ;  he  was  the  state,  the 
representative,  the  incarnation  of  Saxon  England  :  his 
sway  and  the  Saxon  freedom,  to  live  or  fall  together  ! 

The  soul  really  grand  is  only  tested  in  its  errors.  As 
we  know  the  true  might  of  the  intellect  by  the  rich 
resources  and  patient  strength  wath  wliich  it  redeems  a 
failure,  so  do  we  prove  the  elevation  of  the  soul  by  its 
courasfeous  return  into  light,  its  instinctive  rebound  into 
higher  air,  after  some  error  that  has  darkened  its  vision 
and  soiled  its  plumes.  A  spirit  less  noble  and  pure  than 
Harold's,  once  entering  on  the  dismal  world  of  enchanted 
superstition,  had  habituated  itself  to  that  nether  atmos- 
phere ;  once  misled  from  hardy  truth  and  healthful  rea- 
son, it  had  plunged  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  maze.  But, 
unlike  his  contemporary  Macbeth,  the  Man  escaped  from 
the  lures  of  the  Fiend.  Not  as  Hecate  in  hell,  but  as 
Dian  in  heaven,  did  he  confront  the  pale  Goddess  of 
Night.  Before  that  hour  in  which  he  had  deserted  the 
1  "  Vit.  Harold.  Chron.  Ang.  Norm."  ii.  243.     2  Hoveden. 


HAROLD.  201 

human  judgment  for  the  ghostly  flehision ;  before  that 
day  in  which  the  brave  heart,  in  its  sudden  desertion, 
liad  humbled  his  pride,  —  the  man,  in  his  nature,  was 
more  strong  than  the  god.  Now,  purified  by  the  flame 
that  had  scorched,  and  more  nerved  from  the  fall  that 
had  stunned,  that  great  soul  rose  sublime  through  the 
wrecks  of  the  Past,  serene  through  the  clouds  of  the 
Future,  concentrating  in  its  solitude  the  destinies  of  Man- 
kind, and  strong  with  instinctive  Eternity  amidst  all  the 
terrors  of  Time. 

King  Harold  came  from  York,  whither  he  had  gone 
to  cement  the  new  power  of  Morcar  in  Northumbria,  and 
personally  to  confirm  the  allegiance  of  the  Anglo-Danes  .- 
—  King  Harold  came  from  York,  and  in  the  halls  of 
Westminster  he  found  a  monk  who  awaited  him  with  the 
messages  of  William  the  Korman. 

Barefooted  and  serge-garbed,  the  Norman  envoy  strode 
to  the  Saxon's  chair  of  state.  His  form  was  worn  with 
mortification  and  fast,  and  his  face  was  hueless  and  livid, 
with  the  perpetual  struggle  between  zeal  and  the  flesh. 

"  Thus  saith  AYilliam,  Count  of  the  Normans,"  began 
Hugues  Maigrot  the  monk. 

"  With  grief  and  amaze  hath  he  heard  that  you,  O 
Harold,  his  sworn  liegeman,  have,  contrary  to  oath  and  to 
fealty,  assumed  the  crown  that  belongs  to  himself.  But, 
confiding  in  thy  conscience,  and  forgiving  a  moment's 
Aveakness,  he  summons  thee,  mildly  and  brother-like,  to 
fulfil  thy  vow.  Send  thy  sister,  that  he  may  give  her  in 
marriage  to  one  of  his  quens.  Give  him  up  the  strong- 
hold of  Dover ;  march  to  thy  coast  with  thine  armies  to 
aid  him,  —  thy  liege  lord,  —  and  secure  him  the  heritage 
of  Edward  his  cousin.  And  thou  shalt  reign  at  his  right 
hand,  his  daughter  thy  bride,  Northumbria  thy  fief,  and 
the  saints  thy  protectors." 


202  HAROLD. 

The  king's  lip  was  firm,  though  pale,  as  he  answered  : 

"  My  young  sister,  alas  !  is  no  more  :  seven  nights 
after  I  ascended  the  throne,  she  died  :  her  dust  in  the 
grave  is  all  I  could  send  to  the  arms  of  the  bridegroom. 
I  cannot  wed  the  child  of  thy  count  :  the  wife  of  Harold 
sits  beside  him."  And  he  pointed  to  the  proud  beauty 
of  Aldyth,  enthroned  under  the  drapery  of  gold.  "  For 
the  vow  that  I  took,  I  deny  it  not.  But  from  a  vow  of 
compulsion,  menaced  with  unworthy  captivity,  extorted 
from  my  lips  by  the  very  need  of  the  land  whose  freedom 
had  been  bound  in  my  chains,  —  from  a  vow  so  com- 
pelled, Church  and  conscience  absolve  me.  If  the  vow  of 
a  maiden  on  whom  to  bestow  but  her  hand,  when  un- 
known to  her  parents,  is  judged  invalid  by  the  Church,  how 
much  more  invalid  the  oath  that  would  bestow  on  a 
stranger  the  fates  of  a  nation,^  against  its  knowledge,  and 
unconsulting  its  laws  !  This  royalty  of  England  hath 
ever  rested  on  the  will  of  the  people,  declared  through  its 
chiefs  in  their  solemn  assembly.  They  alone  who  could 
bestow  it,  have  bestowed  it  on  me  :  —  I  have  no  power 
to  resign  it  to  another, — and  were  I  in  my  grave,  the 
trust  of  the  crown  woulil  not  pass  to  the  Norman,  but 
return  to  the  Saxon  people." 

"Is  this,  then,  thy  answer,  unhappy  son?  "said  the 
monk,  with  a  sullen  and  gloomy  aspect. 

"  Such  is  my  answer." 

"Then,  sorrowing  for  thee,  I  utter  the  words  of 
William.  '  With  sword  and  with  mail  will  he  come  to 
punish  the  perjurer ;  and  by  the  aid  of  St.  Michael, 
archangel  of  war,  he  will  conquer  his  own.'     Amen  !  " 

"  By  sea  and  by  land,  with  sword  and  with  mail,  will 
we  meet  the  invader,"  answered  the  king,  with  a  flashing 
eye.     "  Thou  hast  said  :  —  so  depart." 

1  Malmesbury. 


HAROLD.  203 

The  monk  turned  and  withdrew. 

"  Let  the  priest's  insolence  chafe  thee  not,  sweet  lord," 
said  Aldyth.  "  For  the  vow  which  thou  mightest  take 
as  subject,  what  matters  it  now  thou  art  king  ? " 

Harold  made  no  answer  to  Aldyth,  but  turned  to  his 
chamberlain,  who  stood  behind  his  throne-chair. 

"  Are  my  brothers  without  ? " 

"  They  are  :  and  my  lord  the  king's  chosen  council." 

"  Admit  them  :  pardon,  Aldyth ;  affairs  fit  only  for 
men  claim  me  now." 

The  Lady  of  England  took  the  hint  and  rose. 

"  But  the  even-mete  will  summon  thee  soon,"  said 
she. 

Harold,  who  had  already  descended  from  his  chair  of 
state,  and  was  bending  over  a  casket  of  papers  on  the 
table,  replied,  — 

"  There  is  food  here  till  the  morrow  ;  wait  me  not." 

Aldyth  sighed,  and  withdrew  at  the  one  door,  while 
the  thegns  most  in  Harold's  confidence  entered  at  the 
other.  But,  once  surrounded  by  her  maidens,  Aldyth 
forgot  all,  save  that  she  was  again  a  queen,  —  forgot  all, 
even  to  the  earlier  and  less  gorgeous  diadem  which  her 
lord's  hand  had  shattered  on  tl>e  brows  of  the  son  of 
Pendragon. 

Leofwine,  still  gay  and  blithe-hearted,  entered  first; 
Gurth  followed,  then  Haco,  then  some  half-score  of  the 
greater  thegns. 

They  seated  themselves  at  the  table,  and  Gurth  spoke 
first,  — 

"  Tostig  has  been  with  Count  William." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Harold. 

"It  is  rumored  that  he  has  passed  to  our  uncle 
Sweyn." 

"I  foresaw  it,"  said  the  king. 


204  HAROLD. 

"  And  that  Sweyn  will  aid  him  to  reconquer  England 
for  the  Dane." 

"  My  bode  reached  Sweyn,  with  letters  from  Githa, 
before  Tostig ;  my  bode  has  returned  this  day.  Sweyn 
has  dismissed  Tostig :  Sweyn  will  send  fifty  ships,  armed 
with  picked  men,  to  the  aid  of  England." 

"  Brother,"  cried  Leofwine,  admiringly,  "  thou  provid- 
est  against  danger  ere  we  but  surmise  it." 

"  Tostig,"  continued  the  king,  unheeding  the  compli- 
ment, "  will  be  the  first  assailant ;  him  we  must  meet. 
His  fast  friend  is  Malcolm  of  Scotland ;  him  we  must 
secure.  Go  thou,  Leofwine,  with  these  letters  to  Mal- 
colm. —  The  next  fear  is  from  the  Welsh.  Go  thou, 
Edwin  of  Mercia,  to  the  princes  of  Wales.  On  thy  way, 
strengthen  the  forts  and  deepen  the  dykes  of  the  Marches. 
These  tablets  hold  thy  instructions.  The  Norman,  as 
doubtless  ye  know,  my  thegns,  hath  sent  to  demand  our 
crown,  and  hath  announced  the  coming  of  his  war.  With 
the  dawn  I  depart  to  our  port  at  Sandwich,^  to  muster 
our  fleets.     Thou  with  me,  Gurth." 

"  These  preparations  need  much  treasure,"  said  an  old 
thegn,  "and  thou  hast  lessened  the  taxes  at  the  hour  of 
need." 

"  Not  yet  is  it  the  hour  of  need.  When  it  comes,  our 
people  will  the  more  readily  meet  it  with  their  gold  as 
with  their  iron.  There  was  great  wealth  in  the  house  of 
Godwin ;  that  wealth  mans  the  ships  of  England.  What 
hast  thou  there,  Haco  V 

"  Thy  new-issued  coin  :  it  hath  on  its  reverse  the  word 
'  Peace.'  "  ^ 

Who  ever  saw  one  of  those  coins  of  the  Last  Saxon 

1  Supposed  to  be  bur  first  port  for  shipbuilding.  —  Fosbrooke, 
p.  320. 

2  Pax. 


HAROLD.  205 

King,  the  bold,  simple  head  on  the  one  side,  that  single 
word  "  Peace  "  on  the  other,  and  did  not  feel  awed  and 
touched  ?  What  pathos  in  that  word,  compared  with  the 
fate  which  it  failed  to  propitiate  ! 

"  Peace,"  said  Harold  :  "  to  all  that  doth  not  render 
peace,  slavery.  Yea,  may  I  live  to  leave  peace  to  our 
children  !  Now,  peace  only  rests  on  our  preparation  for 
war.  You,  Morcar,  will  return  with  all  speed  to  York, 
and  look  well  to  the  mouth  of  the  Humber." 

Then,  turning  to  each  of  the  thegns  successively,  he 
gave  to  each  his  post  and  his  duty ;  and  that  done,  con- 
verse grew  more  general.  The  many  things  needful  that 
had  been  long  rotting  in  neglect  under  the  Monk-king, 
and  now  sprung  up,  craving  instant  reform,  occupied  them 
long  and  anxiously.  But  cheered  and  inspirited  by  the 
vigor  and  foresight  of  Harold,  whose  earlier  slowness  of 
character  seemed  winged  by  the  occasion  into  rapid  deci- 
sion (as  is  not  uncommon  with  the  Englishman),  all 
difficulties  seemed  light,  and  hope  and  courage  were  in 
every  breast. 


206  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Back  went  Hugues  Maigrot,  the  monk,  to  William,  and 
told  the  reply  of  Harold  to  the  duke,  in  the  presence  of 
Lanfranc.  William  himself  heard  it  in  gloomy  silence, 
for  Fitzosborne  as  yet  had  been  wholly  unsuccessful  in 
stirring  up  the  Norman  barons  to  an  expedition  so  haz- 
ardous, in  a  cause  so  doubtful ;  and  though  prepared  for 
the  defiance  of  Harold,  the  duke  was  not  prepared  with 
the  means  to  enforce  his  threats  and  make  good  his  claim. 

So  great  was  his  abstraction,  that  he  suffered  the  Lom- 
bard to  dismiss  the  monk  without  a  word  spoken  by  him  ; 
and  he  was  first  startled  from  his  reverie  by  Lanfranc's 
pale  hand  on  his  vast  shoulder,  and  Lanfranc's  low  voice 
in  his  dreamy  ear, — 

"  Up  !  hero  of  Europe  ;  for  thy  cause  is  won  !  Up  ! 
and  write  with  thy  bold  characters — bold  as  if  graved 
with  the  point  of  the  sword  —  my  credentials  to  Rome. 
Let  me  depart  ere  the  sun  sets  :  and  as  I  go,  look  on  the 
sinking  orb,  and  behold  the  sun  of  the  Saxon  that  sets 
evermore  on  England  !  " 

Then,  briefly,  that  ablest  statesman  of  the  age  (and 
forgive  him,  despite  our  modern  lights,  we  must  ;  for 
sincere  son  of  the  Church,  he  regarded  the  violated  oath 
of  Harold  as  entailing  the  legitimate  forfeiture  of  his 
realm,  and,  ignorant  of  true  political  freedom,  looked  upon 
Church  and  learning  as  the  only  civilizers  of  men),  then, 
briefly,  Lanfranc  detailed  to  the  listening  Xorman  the 
outline  of  the  arguments  by  which  he  intended  to  move 


HAROLD.  207 

the  Pontifical  court  to  the  Norman  side ;  and  enlarged 
upon  the  vast  accession  throughout  all  Eurojoe  which  the 
solemn  sanction  of  the  Church  would  bring  to  his  strength. 
William's  re-awaking  and  ready  intellect  soon  seized  upon 
the  importance  of  the  object  pressed  upon  him.  He  in- 
terrupted the  Lombard,  drew  pen  and  parchment  towards 
him,  and  wrote  rapidl}'.  Horses  were  harnessed,  horse- 
men equipped  in  haste,  and  with  no  unfitting  retinue 
Lanfranc  departed  on  the  mission,  the  most  important  in 
its  consequences  that  ever  passed  from  potentate  to  pon- 
tiff.^ Eebraced  to  its  purpose  by  Lanfranc's  cheering 
assurances,  the  resolute,  indomitable  soul  of  William  now 
applied  itself,  night  and  day,  to  the  difficult  task  of 
rousing  his  haughty  vavasours.  Yet  weeks  passed  before 
he  could  even  meet  a  select  council  composed  of  his  own 
kinsmen  and  most  trusted  lords.  These,  however,  pri- 
vately won  over,  promised  to  serve  him  "  with  body  and 
goods."  But  one  and  all  they  told  him,  he  must  gain  the 
consent  of  the  whole  principality  in  a  general  council. 
That  council  was  convened  :  thither  came  not  only  lords 
and  knights,  but  merchants  and  traders,  —  all  the  rising 
middle  class  of  a  thriving  state. 

The  duke  bared  his  wrongs,  his  claims,  and  his 
schemes.  The  assembly  would  not  or  did  not  discuss 
the  matter  in  his  presence,  —  they  would  not  be  aAved 
by  its  influence ;  and  AVilliam  retired  from  the  hall. 
Various  were  the  opinions,  stormy  the  debate  ;  and  so 
great  the  disorder  grew,  that  Fitzosborne,  rising  in  the 
midst,  exclaimed,  — 

"Why  this   dispute? — why  this  unduteous   discord? 

1  Some  of  the  Norman  chroniclers  state  that  Robert,  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury,  who  had  been  expelled  from  England  at  Godwin's 
return,  was  Lanfranc's  companion  in  this  mission  ;  but  more  trust- 
worthy authorities  assure  us  that  Robert  had  been  dead  some 
years  before,  not  long  surviving  liis  return  into  Normandy. 


208  HAROLD. 

Is  not  "VYilliam  your  lord  1     Hath  he  not  need  of  you  1 

Fail  him  now,  —  and  you  know  him  well,  — by  G he 

Avill  remember  it!  Aid  him,  —  and  you  know  him  well, 
—  larLje  are  his  rewards  to  service  and  love  !  " 

Up  rose  at  once  baron  and  merchant ;  and  when 
at  last  their  spokesman  was  chosen,  that  spokesman 
said,  — 

"  William  is  our  lord  ;  is  it  not  enough  to  pay  to  our  lord 
his  dues?  No  aid  do  we  owe  beyond  the  seas!  Sore 
harassed  and  taxed  are  we  already  by  his  wars !  Let  him 
fail  in  this  strange  and  unparalleled  hazard,  and  our 
land  is  undone  !  " 

Loud  applause  followed  this  speech  ;  the  majority  of 
the  council  were  against  the  duke. 

"  Then,"  said  Fitzosborne,  craftily,  "  I,  who  know  the 
means  of  each  man  present,  will,  with  your  leave,  repre- 
sent your  necessities  to  your  count,  and  make  such  modest 
offer  of  assistance  as  may  please  ye,  yet  not  chafe  your 
liege." 

Into  the  trap  of  this  proposal  the  opponents  fell ; 
and  Fitzosborne,  at  the  head  of  the  body  returned  to 
William. 

Tlie  Lord  of  Breteul  approached  the  dais,  on  which 
William  sat  alone,  his  great  sword  in  his  hand,  and  thus 
spoke,  — 

"  My  liege,  I  may  well  say  that  never  prince  had  peo- 
ple more  leal  than  yours,  nor  that  have  more  proved  their 
faith  and  love  by  the  burdens  they  have  borne  and  the 
moneys  they  liave  granted." 

An  universal  murmur  of  applause  followed  these 
words.  "Good!  good!"  almost  shouted  the  merchants 
especially.  William's  brows  met,  and  he  looked  very 
terrible.  The  Lord  of  Breteul  gracefully  waved  his  hand, 
and  resumed,  — 


HAROLD.  209 

"  Yea,  my  liege,  much  have  they  borne  for  your  glory 
and  need ;  much  more  will  they  bear," 

The  faces  of  the  audience  fell. 

"Their  service  does  not  compel  them  to  aid  you 
beyond  the  seas." 

The  faces  of  the  audience  brightened. 

"  But  now  they  will  aid  you,  in  the  land  of  the  Saxon 
as  in  that  of  the  Frank." 

"  How  1 "  cried  a  stray  voice  or  two. 

"  Hush,  0  gentilz  amys.  Forward  then,  0  my  liege,  and 
spare  them  in  nought.  He  who  has  hitherto  supplied  you 
with  two  good  mounted  soldiers,  will  now  grant  you  four ; 
and  he  who  —  " 

"  No,  no,  no  !  "  roared  two-thirds  of  the  assembly  ; 
"  we  charged  you  with  no  such  answer ;  we  said  not  that, 
nor  that  shall  it  be  !  " 

Out  stepped  a  baron. 

"  Within  this  country,  to  defend  it,  we  will  serve  our 
count  ;  but  to  aid  him  to  conquer  another  man's  country, 
no." 

Out  stepped  a  knight. 

"  If  once  we  rendered  this  double  service,  beyond  seas 
as  at  home,  it  would  be  held  a  right  and  a  custom  here- 
after ;  and  we  should  be  as  mercenary  soldiers,  not  free- 
born  Normans." 

Out  stepped  a  merchant. 

"  And  we  and  our  cliildren  would  be  burdened  forever 
to  feed  one  man's  ambition,  whenever  he  saw  a  king  to 
dethrone,  or  a  realm  to  seize." 

And  then  cried  a  general  chorus,  — 

"  It  shall  not  be,  —  it  shall  not  !  " 

The  assembly  broke  at  once  into  knots  of  tens, 
twenties,  thirties,  gesticulating  and  speaking  aloud,  like 
freemen  in  anger.     And  ere  William,  with  all  his  prompt 

TOL.  II. — 14 


210  HAROLD. 

dissimulation,  could  do  more  than  smother  his  rage,  and 
sit  griping  his  sword-hilt,  and  setting  his  teeth,  the  assem- 
bly dispersed. 

Such  were  the  free  souls  of  the  Normans  under  the 
greatest  of  their  chiefs ;  and  had  those  souls  been  less 
free,  England  had  not  been  enslaved  in  one  age,  to 
become  free  again,  God  grant,  to  the  end  of  time  I 


HAROLD.  211 


CHAPTER  IX, 

Through  the  blue  skies  over  England  there  rushed  the 
bright  stranger,  —  a  meteor,  a  comet,  a  fiery  star  1  ^'  such 
as  no  man  before  ever  saw  ; "  it  appeared  on  the  8th, 
before  the  kalends  of  May ;  seven  nights  did  it  shine/ 
and  the  faces  of  sleepless  men  were  pale  under  the  angry 
glare. 

The  river  of  Thames  rushed  blood-red  in  the  beam,  the 
■winds  at  play  on  tlie  broad  waves  of  the  Humber,  broke 
the  surge  of  the  billows  into  sparkles  of  fire.  With  three 
streamers,  sharp  and  long  as  the  sting  of  a  dragon,  the 
foreboder  of  wrath  rushed  through  the  hosts  of  the  stars. 
On  every  ruinous  fort,  by  sea-coast  and  march,  the  warder 
crossed  his  breast  to  behold  it ;  on  hill  and  in  thorough* 
fare,  crowds  nightly  assembled  to  gaze  on  the  terrible 
star.  Muttering  hymns,  monks  huddled  together  round 
the  altars,  as  if  to  exorcise  the  land  of  a  demon.  The 
gravestone  of  the  Saxon  father-chief  was  lit  up,  as  with 
the  coil  of  the  lightning  ;  and  the  Morthwyrtha  looked 
from  the  mound,  and  saw  in  her  visions  of  awe  tlie 
Valkyrs  in  the  train  of  the  fiery  star. 

On  the  roof  of  his  palace  stood  Harold  the  King,  and 
with  folded  arms  he  looked  on  the  Rider  of  Night.  And 
up  the  stairs  of  the  turret  came  the  soft  steps  of  Haco, 
and  stealing  near  to  the  king,  he  said,  — 

"  Arm  in  haste,  for  the  bodes  have  come  breathless 
to  tell  thee  that  Tostig,  thy  brother,  with  pirate  and 
■war-ship,  is  wasting  thy  shores  and  slaughtering  thy 
people  !  " 

"  Saxon  Chronicle." 


212  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER  X. 

ToSTiG,  with  the  ships  he  had  gained  hoth  from  Norraan 
and  jNTorwegian,  recruited  by  Flemish  adventurers,  fled 
fast  from  the  banners  of  Harold.  After  plundering  tlie 
Isle  of  Wight  and  the  Hampshire  coasts,  he  sailed  up  the 
Humber,  where  his  vain  heart  had  counted  on  friends 
yet  left  him  in  his  ancient  earldom  ;  but  Harold's  soul  of 
vigor  was  everywhere.  Morcar,  prepared  by  the  king's 
bodes,  encountered  and  chased  the  traitor,  and,  deserted 
by  most  of  his  ships,  with  but  twelve  small  craft  Tostig 
gained  the  shores  of  Scotland.  There,  again  forestalled 
by  the  Saxon  king,  he  failed  in  succor  from  Malcolm, 
and,  retreating  to  the  Orkneys,  waited  the  fleets  of 
Hardrada. 

And  now  Harold,  thus  at  freedom  for  defence  against  a 
foe  more  formidable  and  less  unnatural,  hastened  to  make 
secure  both  the  sea  and  the  coast  against  William  the 
Norman.  "  So  great  a  ship  force,  so  great  a  land  force, 
no  king  in  the  land  had  before."  All  the  summer  his 
fleets  swept  the  Channel  ;  his  forces  "  lay  everywhere  by 
the  sea." 

But,  alas  !  now  came  the  time  when  the  improvident 
waste  of  Edward  began  to  be  felt.  Provisions  and  pay 
for  the  armaments  failed.-^  On  the  defective  resources  at 
Harold's  disposal,  no  modern  historian  hath  sufficiently 
dwelt.     The  last  Saxon  king,  the   chosen   of  the  people, 

1  "  Saxon  Chronicle."  —  "  When  it  was  the  nativity  of  Saint 
Mary,  then  were  the  men's  provisions  gone,  and  no  man  could  any 
longer  keep  them  there." 


HAROLD.  213 

had  not  those  levies,  and  could  impose  not  those  burdens, 
which  made  his  successors  mighty  in  war ;  and  men 
began  now  to  think  that,  after  all,  there  was  no  fear  of 
tins  Norman  invasion.  The  summer  was  gone ;  the 
autumn  was  come  :  was  it  likely  that  William  would  dare 
to  trust  himself  in  an  enemy's  country  as  the  winter  drew 
near  1  The  Saxons,  unlike  their  fiercer  kindred  of 
Scandinavia,  had  no  pleasure  in  war;  they  fought  well 
in  front  of  a  foe,  but  they  loathed  the  tedious  prepara- 
tions and  costly  sacrifices  which  prudence  demanded  for 
self-defence.  They  now  revdlted  from  a  strain  upon 
their  energies,  of  the  necessity  of  which  they  were  not 
convinced  !  Joyous  at  the  temporary  defeat  of  Tostig, 
men  said,  "  Marry,  a  joke  indeed,  that  the  Norman  will 
put  his  shaven  head  into  the  hornet's  nest !  Let  him 
come,  if  he  dare  !  " 

Still,  with  desperate  effort,  and  at  much  risk  of  popu- 
larity, Harold  held  together  a  force  sufficient  to  repel  any 
single  invader.  From  the  time  of  his  accession  his  sleep- 
less vigilance  had  kept  watch  on  the  Norman,  and  his 
spies    brought    liim    news   of  all   that   passed. 

And  now,  what  had  passed  in  the  councils  of  William  1 
The  abrupt  disappointment  which  the  Grand  Assembly 
had  occasioned  him  did  not  last  very  long.  Made  aware 
that  he  could  not  trust  to  the  spirit  of  an  assembly, 
William  now  artfully  summoned  merchant,  and  knight, 
and  baron,  one  by  one.  Submitted  to  the  eloquence,  the 
})romises,  the  craft,  of  that  master  intellect,  and  to  the 
awe  of  that  imposing  presence  ;  unassisted  by  the  courage 
which  inferiors  take  from  numbers,  one  by  one  yielded  to 
the  will  of  the  count,  and  subscribed  his  quota  for  moneys, 
fur  ships,  and  for  men.  And  while  this  went  on,  Lan- 
franc  was  at  work  in  the  Vatican.  At  that  time  the 
Archdeacon    of   the    Eonian    Church    was    the    famous 


214  HAROLD, 

Hildebrand.  This  extraordinary  man,  fit  fellow-spirit  to 
Lanfranc,  nursed  one  darling  project,  tlie  success  of 
which  indeed  founded  the  true  temporal  power  of  the 
Roman  pontiffs.  It  was  no  less  than  that  of  converting 
the  mere  religious  ascendancy  of  the  Holy  See  into  the 
actual  sovereignty  over  the  states  of  Christendom.  The 
most  immediate  agents  of  this  gigantic  scheme  were 
the  Normans,  who  had  conquered  Naples  by  the  arm  of  the 
adventurer  Robert  Guiscard,  and  under  the  gonfanon  of 
St.  Peter.  Most  of  the  new  Norman  countships  and 
dukedoms  thus  created  in  Italy  had  declared  themselves 
fiefs  of  the  Church  ;  and  the  successor  of  the  apostle 
might  well  hope,  by  aid  of  the  Norman  priest-kniglits,  to 
extend  his  sovereignty  over  Italy,  and  thence  dictate  to 
the  kings  beyond  the  Alps. 

The  aid  of  Hildebrand  in  belialf  of  William's  claims 
was  obtained  at  once  by  Lanfranc.  The  profound  Arch- 
deacon of  Rome  saw  at  a  glance  the  immense  power  that 
would  accrue  to  the  Church  by  tlie  mere  act  of  arrogating 
to  itself  the  disposition  of  crowns,  subjecting  rival  princes 
to  abide  by  its  decision,  and  fixing  the  men  of  its  choice 
on  the  thrones  of  the  North.  Despite  all  its  slavish  super- 
stition, the  Saxon  Church  was  obnoxious  to  Rome.  Even 
the  pious  Edward  had  offended,  by  withholding  the  old 
levy  of  Peter  Pence ;  and  simony,  a  crime  peculiarly 
reprobated  by  the  poiititf,  was  notorious  in  England. 
Therefore  there  was  much  to  aid  Hildebrand  in  the 
Assembly  of  the  Cardinals,  when  he  brought  before  them 
the  oath  of  Harold,  the  violation  of  the  sacred  relics,  and 
demanded  that  the  pious  Normans,  true  friends  to  the 
Roman  Church,  should  be  permitted  to  Christianize  the 
barbarous  Saxons,^  and   William  be  nominated  as  heir  to 

1  It  is  curious  to  notice  how  England  was  represented  as  a  coun- 
try ahnost  heathen ;  its  conquest  was  regarded  quite  as  a  pious, 


HAROLD.  215 

a  throne  promised  to  him  hy  Edward  and  forfeited  hy  the 
perjury  of  Harold.  Nevertheless,  to  the  honor  of  that 
assembly,  and  of  man,  there  was  a  holy  opposition  to  this 
wholesale  barter  of  human  rights,  this  sanction  of  an 
armed  onslaught  on  a  Christian  people.  "  It  is  infamous," 
said  the  good,  "to  authorize  homicide."  But  Hildebraud 
was  all-powerful,  and  prevailed. 

William  was  at  high  feast  with  his  barons  when  Lan- 
franc  dismounted  at  his  gates  and  entered  his  hall. 

"  Hail  to  thee,  King  of  England  !  "  he  said.  "  I  bring 
the  bull  that  excommunicates  Harold  and  his  adherents ; 
I  bring  to  thee  the  gift  of  the  Roman  Church,  —  the  land 
and  royalty  of  England.  I  bring  to  thee  the  gonfanon 
hallowed  by  the  heir  of  the  apostle,  and  the  very  ring  that 
contains  the  precious  relic  of  the  apostle  himself!  Now, 
who  will  shrink  from  thy  side?  Publish  thy  ban,  not  in 
Normandy  alone,  but  in  every  region  and  realm  where 
the  Church  is  honored.  This  is  the  first  war  of  the 
Cross  !  " 

Then  indeed  was  it  seen,  —  that  might  of  the  Church  ! 
Soon  as  were  made  known  the  sanction  and  gifts  of  the 
Pope,  all  the  Continent  stirred,  as  to  the  blast  of  the 
trump  in  the  Crusade,  of  which  that  war  was  the  herald. 
From  Maine  and  from  Anjou,  from  Poitou  and  Bretagne, 
from  France  and  from  Flanders,  from  Aquitaine  and  Bur- 
gundy, flashed  the  spear,  galloped  the  steed.  The  robber- 
chiefs  from  the  castles  now  gray  on  the  Rhine  ;  the  hunters 
and  bandits  from  the  roots  of  the  Alps  ;  baron  and  knight, 

benevolent  act  of  charity,  —  a  sort  of  mission  for  converting  the 
savao^es.  And  all  this  while  England  was  under  the  most  slavish 
ecclesiastical  domination,  and  the  priesthood  possessed  a  third  of 
its  land  !  But  the  heart  of  England  never  forgave  that  league  of 
the  Pope  with  the  Conqueror;  and  the  seeds  of  the  Reformed 
Religion  were  trampled  deep  into  the  Saxou  soil  by  the  feet  of  the 
invading  Norman. 


216  HAROLD. 

varlet  and  vagrant,  —  all  came  to  the  flag  of  the  Church, 
to  the  pillage  of  England.  For  side  by  side  with  the 
Pope's  holy  bull  was  the  martial  ban  :  —  "  Good  pay  and. 
broad  lands  to  every  one  who  will  serve  Count  William 
with  spear,  and  with  sword,  and  with  cross-bow."  And 
the  duke  said  to  Fitzosborne,  as  he  parcelled,  out  the  fair 
fields  of  England  into  IS^orman  fiefs,  — 

"  Harold  hath  not  the  strength  of  mind  to  promise  the 
least  of  those  things  that  belong  to  me.  But  I  have  the 
right  to  promise  that  which  is  mine,  and  also  that  which 
belongs  to  him.  He  must  be  tlie  victor  who  can  give 
away  both  his  own  and  what  belongs  to  his  foe."  ^ 

All  on  the  continent  of  Europe  regarded  England's 
king  as  accursed ;  William's  enterprise  as  holy ;  and 
mothers  who  had  turned  pale  when  their  sons  went  forth 
to  the  boar-chase,  sent  their  darlings  to  enter  their  names, 
for  the  weal  of  their  souls,  in  the  swollen  muster-roll  of 
William  the  Norman.  Every  port  now  in  Neustria  was 
bu.sy  with  terrible  life ;  in  every  wood  was  heard  the  axe 
felling  logs  for  the  ships  ;  from  every  anvil  flew  the  sparks 
from  the  hammer,  as  iron  took  shape  into  helmet  and 
sword.  All  things  seemed  to  favor  the  Church's  chosen 
one.  Conan,  Count  of  Bretagne,  sent  to  claim  the  duchy 
of  Normandy  as  legitimate  heir.  A  few  days  afterwards, 
Conan  died,  poisoned  (as  had  died  his  father  before  him) 
by  the  mouth  of  his  horn  and  the  web  of  his  gloves.  And 
the  new  Count  of  Bretagne  sent  his  sons  to  take  part 
against  Harold. 

All  the  armament  mustered  at  the  roadstead  of  St. 
Valery,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Somme.  But  the  winds  were 
long  hostile,  and  the  rains  fell  in  torrents. 

1  William  of  Poitier.s.  —  The  naive  sagacity  of  this  bandit 
argument,  and  the  Norman's  contempt  for  Harold's  deficiency  in 
"  strength  of  mind,"  are  exquisite  illustrations  of  character. 


HAROLD.  217 


CHAPTER  XI. 

And  now,  \y\n\e  war  thus  hungered  for  England  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Somiue,  tlie  last  and  most  renowned  of  the 
sea-kings,  Harold  Hardrada,  entered  his  galley,  the  tallest 
and  strongest  of  a  fleet  of  three  hundred  sail  that  peopled 
the  seas  round  Solundir.  And  a  man  named  Gyrdir,  on 
board  the  king's  ship,  dreamed  a  dream.  He  saw  a  great 
witeh-wife  standing  on  an  isle  of  the  Sulen,  with  a  fork  in 
one  hand  and  a  trough  in  the  other.^  He  saw  her  pass 
over  the  whole  fleet ;  —  by  each  of  the  three  hundred 
ships  he  saw  her ;  and  a  fowl  sat  on  the  stern  of  each  ship, 
and  that  fowl  was  a  raven ;  and  he  heard  the  witch-wife 
sing  this  song  :  — 

"  From  the  East  I  allure  him. 
At  the  West  I  secure  him ; 
In  the  feast  I  foresee 
Kare  the  relics  for  me  ; 

Eed  the  drink,  white  the  bones. 

"  The  ravens  sit  greeding, 
And  watching,  and  heeding. 
There'  wind,  over  water. 
Comes  scent  of  the  slaughter, 
And  ravens  sit  greeding 
Their  share  of  the  bones. 

^  Snorro  Sturleson. 

2  Does  any  Scandinavian  scholar  know  ■why  the  trough  was  so 
associated  with  the  images  of  Scandinavian  witchcraft  ?  A  witch 
was  kno^vn,  when  seen  behind,  by  a  kind  of  trough-like  sliape ; 
there  must  be  some  symbol,  of  very  ancient  mythology,  in  this 
superstition  ! 


218  HAROLD. 

^  Thoro*  wind,  thoro'  weather. 
We  're  sailing  together  ; 
I  sail  with  the  ravens  ; 
1  watch  with  the  ravens ; 
I  snatch  from  the  ravens 
My  share  of  the  bones.'* 

There  was  also  a  man  called  Thord,^  in  a  ship  that  lay 
near  the  king's ;  and  he  too  dreamed  a  dream.  He  saw 
the  fleet  nearing  land,  and  that  land  was  England.  And 
on  the  land  was  a  battle  array  two-fold,  and  many  banners 
were  flapping  on  both  sides.  And  before  the  army  of  the 
land-folk  was  riding  a  hnge  witch-wife  \Tpon  a  waif;  the 
wolf  had  a  man's  carcass  in  his  mouth,  and  the  blood  was 
dripping  and  dropping  from  his  jaws ;  and  when  tlie 
wolf  had  eaten  up  that  carcass,,  the  witch-wife  threw 
another  into  his  jaws  ;  and  so,  one  after  another  ;  and  the 
wolf  cranched  and  swallowed  them  alL  And  the  witch- 
■wife  sang  this  song  :  — 

"  The  green  waving  fields 
Are  hidden  behind 
The  flash  of  the  shields. 

And  the  rush  of  the  banners 
That  toss  in  the  wind. 

"  But  Skade's  eagle  eyes 

Pierce  the  wall  of  the  steel. 
And  behold  from  the  skies 

What  the  earth  would  conceal  j 
O'er  the  rush  of  the  banners 

She  poises  her  wing. 
And  marks  with  a  shadow 

The  brow  of  the  king. 

*  Snorxa  Storlesoa. 


HAROLD.  219 


**  And,  in  bode  of  his  doom. 
Jaw  of  Wolf,  be  the  tomb 
Of  the  bones  and  the  flesh, 
Gore-bedabbled  and  fresh. 
That  cranch  and  that  drip 
Under  fang  and  from  lip, 
As  I  ride  in  the  van 
Of  the  feasters  on  man. 
With  the  king. 


'O' 


"  Grim  wolf,  sate  thy  maw. 
Full  enow  shall  there  be, 
Hairy  jaw,  hungry  maw. 
Both  lor  ye  and  for  me  '. 

"  Meaner  food  be  the  feast 
Of  the  fowl  and  the  beast  ; 
But  the  witch,  for  her  share, 
Takes  the  liest  of  the  fare  : 
And  the  witch,  shall  be  fed 
With  the  king  of  the  dead, 
When  she  rides  in  the  van 
Of  the  slayers  of  man 
With  the  king." 

And  King  Harold  dreamed  a  dream.  And  he  saw- 
before  him  his  brother,  St.  Olave.  And  the  dead  to  the 
Scald-King  sang  this  song :  — 

"  Bold  as  thou  in  the  fight. 
Blithe  as  thou  in  the  hall, 
Shone  the  noon  of  my  might. 
Ere  the  night  of  my  fall ! 

"  How  humble  is  death. 

And  how  haughty  is  life. 
And  how  fleeting  the  breath 
Between  slumber  and  strife ! 


220  HAKOLD. 

"  All  the  earth  is  too  narrow, 
O  life,  for  thy  tread ! 
Two  strides  o'er  the  barrow 
Can  measure  the  dead. 

"  Yet  mighty  that  space  is 
Which  seemeth  so  small  ; 
The  realm  of  all  races 
With  room  lor  them  all !  " 

But  Harold  Hardrada  scorned  witch-wife  and  dream; 
and  his  fleets  sailed  on.  Tostig  joined  him  off  the  Orkney 
Isles,  and  this  great  armament  soon  came  in  sight  of  the 
shores  of  England.  They  landed  at  Cleveland,^  and  at  the 
dread  of  the  terrible  Norsemen,  the  coastmen  fled  or  sub- 
mitted. With  booty  and  plunder  they  sailed  on  to  Scar- 
borough, but  there  the  townsfolk  Avere  brave,  and  the 
walls  were  strong.  The  Norsemen  ascended  a  hill  above 
the  town,  lit  a  huge  pile  of  wood,  and  tossed  the  burning 
piles  down  on  the  roofs.  House  after  house  caught  the 
flame,  and  through  the  glare  and  the  crash  rushed  the 
men  of  Hardrada.  Great  was  the  slaughter,  and  ample 
the  plunder;  and  the  town,  awed  and  depeopled,  sub- 
mitted to  flame  and  to  sword. 

Then  the  fleet  sailed  up  the  Humber  and  Ouse,  and 
landed  at  Richall,  not  far  from  York  ;  but  Morcar,  the 
earl  of  Northurabria,  came  out  with  all  his  forces,  —  all  the 
stout  men  and  tall  of  the  great  race  of  the  Anglo-Dane. 

Then  Hardrada  advanced  his  flag,  called  Land-Eyda, 
the  "  Ravager  of  the  World,"  ^  and,  chanting  a  war-stave, 
led  his  men  to  the  onslaught. 

1  Snorro  Sturleson. 

2  So  Thierry  translates  the  word ;  otliers,  the  Land-ravager.  In 
Danish  the  word  is  Laud-ode  ;  in  Icelandic,  Land-eydo.  —  Note  to 
Thierry's  "  Hist,  of  the  Conq.  of  England,"  book  iii.  vol.  vi.  p.  169, 
(of  Hazlitt's  translation). 


HAKOLD.  221 

The  battle  was  fierce,  but  short.  The  English  troops 
were  defeated,  —  they  fled  into  York ;  and  the  Ravager 
of  the  World  was  borne  in  triumph  to  the  gates  of  the 
town.  An  exiled  chief,  however  tyrannous  and  hateful, 
liath  ever  some  friends  among  the  desperate  and  lawless  ; 
and  success  ever  linds  allies  among  the  weak  and  the 
craven,  —  so,  many  Northumbrians  now  came  to  the  side 
of  Tostig.  Dissension  and  mutiny  broke  out  amidst  the 
garrison  within  ;  —  Morcar,  unable  to  control  the  towns- 
folk, was  driven  forth  with  those  still  true  to  their  country 
and  king,  and  York  agreed  to  open  its  gates  to  the  con- 
quering invader. 

At  the  news  of  this  foe  on  the  north  side  of  the  land, 
King  Harold  was  compelled  to  withdraw  all  the  forces 
at  watch  in  the  south  against  the  tardy  invasion  of 
William.  It  was  the  middle  of  September;  eight  months 
had  elapsed  since  the  Norman  had  launched  forth  his 
vaunting  threat.  Would  he  now  dare  to  come  1  —  Come 
or  not,  that  foe  was  afar,  and  this  was  in  the  heart  of  the 
country ! 

Now,  York  having  thus  capitulated,  all  the  land  round 
was  humbled  and  awed,  and  Hardrada  and  Tostig  were 
blithe  and  gay ;  and  many  days,  thought  they,  must 
pass  ere  Harold  the  King  can  come  from  the  south  to  the 
north. 

The  camp  of  the  Norsemen  was  at  Stanford  Bridge, 
and  that  day  it  was  settled  that  they  should  formally 
enter  York.  Their  ships  lay  in  the  river  beyond  ;  a  large 
portion  of  the  armament  was  with  the  ships.  The  day 
was  warm,  and  the  men  with  Hardrada  had  laid  aside 
their  heavy  mail  and  were  ''making  merry,"  talking  of 
the  plunder  of  York,  jeering  at  Saxon  valor,  and  gloating 
over  thoughts  of  the  Saxon,  maids,  whom  Saxon  men  had 
failed  to  protect,  —  when  suddenly  between  them  and  the 


222  HAROLD. 

town  rose  and  rolled  a  great  cloud  of  dust.  High  it  rose, 
and  fast  it  rolled,  and  from  the  heart  of  the  cloud  shone 
the  spear  and  the  shield. 

''  What  army  comes  yonder  ] "  said  Harold  Hardrada. 

"Surely,"  answered  Tostig,  "it  comes  from  the  town 
that  we  are  to  enter  as  con(|uerors,  and  can  be  but  the 
friendly  Northumbrians  who  have  deserted  Morcar  for  me." 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  force,  and  the  shine  of  the 
arms  was  like  the  glancing  of  ice. 

"  Advance  the  World-Ravager  !  "  cried  Harold  Hardrada  ; 
"  draw  up,  and  to  arms  !  " 

Then,  picking  out  three  of  his  briskest  youths,  he 
despatched  them  to  the  force  on  the  river,  vfith  orders  to 
come  up  quick  to  the  aid.  For  already,  througli  the  cloud 
and  amidst  the  spears,  was  seen  the  flag  of  the  English 
king.  On  the  previous  night  King  Harold  had  entered 
York  unknown  to  the  invaders,  appeased  the  mutiny, 
cheered  the  townsfolks,  and  novv  came  like  the  thunder- 
bolt borne  by  the  winds  to  clear  the  air  of  England  from 
the  clouds  of  the  North. 

Both  armaments  drew  up  in  haste,  and  Hardrada  formed 
his  array  in  the  furm  of  a  circle,  — the  line  long  but  not 
deep,  the  wings  curving  round  till  they  met,^  shield  to  shield. 
Those  who  stood  in  tlie  hrst  rank  set  their  spear-shafts  on 
the  ground,  the  points  level  with  the  breast  of  a  horse- 
man ;  tliose  in  the  second,  with  spears  yet  lower,  level 
with  the  breast  of  a  horse,  thus  forming  a  double  palisade 
against  the  charge  of  cavaliy.  In  the  centre  of  this 
circle  was  placed  the  Ravager  of  the  World,  and  round  it 
a  rampart  of  shields.  Beliind  that  rampart  was  the 
accustomed  post  at  the  onset  of  battle  for  the  king  and  his 
body-guard  ;  but  Tostig  was  in  front,  with  his  own  North- 
umbrian Lion  banner  and  his  chosen  men. 

^  Snorro  Sturleson. 


HAROLD.  223 

Wliile  tliis  army  was  thus  being  forrued,  tlie  Englisli 
king  was  marsiialling  liis  force  in  the  far  more  formidable 
tactics,  which  his  military  science  had  perfected  from  the 
warfare  of  the  Danes.  That  form  of  battalion,  invincible 
hitherto  under  his  leadership,  was  in  the  manner  of  a 
wedge  or  triangle,  thus  A.  So  that,  in  attack,  the  men 
inarched  on  the  foe  presenting  the  smallest  possible  snrface 
to  the  missives,  and,  in  defence,  all  three  lines  faced  the 
assailants.  King  Harold  cast  his  eye  over  the  closing 
lines,  and  then,  turning  to  Gurth,  who  rode  by  his  side, 
said,  — 

"  Take  one  man  from  yon  hostile  army,  and  with  what 
joy  should  we  charge  on  the  Nortlimen  !  " 

'■'■  I  conceive  thee,"  answered  Gurth,  mournfully,  "  and 
the  same  thought  of  that  one  man  makes  my  arm  feel 
palsied." 

The  king  mused  and  drew  down  the  nasal  bar  of  his 
helmet. 

"  Thegns,"  said  he  suddenly  to  the  score  of  riders  who 
grouped  round  him,  "  follow."  And,  shaking  the  rein  of 
liis  horse,  King  Harold  rode  straiglit  to  that  part  of  the 
liostile  front  from  wliich  rose,  above  the  spears,  the  North- 
umbrian banner  of  Tostig.  Wondering,  but  mute,  the 
twenty  thegns  followed  liim.  Before  the  grim  array,  and 
hard  by  Tostig's  banner,  the  king  checked  his  steed  and 
cried,  — 

"  Is  Tostig,  the  son  of  Godwin  and  Githa,  by  the  flag 
of  the  Northumbrian  earldom  % " 

With  his  helmet  raised,  and  his  Norwegian  mantle 
flowing  over  his  mail.  Earl  Tostig  rode  forth  at  that  voice, 
and  came  up  to  the  speaker.^ 

1  See  Snorro  Sturleson  for  this  parley  between  Harold  in 
person  and  Tostig.  The  account  differs  from  the  Saxon  chroni- 
clers, but  in  this  particular  instance  is  likely  to  be  as  accurate. 


224  HAROLD. 

"  What  wouklst  thou  with  me,  daring  foe  ] " 
The  Saxon  liorsemau  paused,  and  his  deep  voice  trembled 
tenderly  as  he  answered  slowly,  — 

"  Thy  brother,  King  Harold,  sends  to  salute  thee.  Let 
not  the  sons  from  the  same  womb  wage  unnatural  war  in 
the  soil  of  their  fathers." 

"What  will  Harold  the  King  give  to  his  brother  ]" 
answered  Tostig.  "  Northumbria  already  he  hath  bestowed 
on  the  son  of  his  House's  foe." 

The  Saxon  hesitated,  and  a  rider  by  his  side  took  up 
the  word. 

"  If  the  Northumbrians  will  receive  thee  again,  North- 
umbria shalt  thou  have,  and  the  king  will  bestow  his  late 
earldom  of  Wessex  on  Morcar ;  if  the  Northumbrians 
reject  thee,  thou  shalt  have  all  the  lordships  which  King 
Harold  hath  promised  to  Gurth." 

"  This  is  well,"  answered  Tostig ;  and  he  seemed  to 
pause  as  in  doubt ;  —  when,  made  aware  of  this  parley. 
King  Harold  Hardrada,  on  his  coal-black  steed,  with  his 
helm  all  shining  with  gold,  rode  from  the  lines,  and  came 
into  hearing. 

"  Ha !  "  said  Tostig,  then  turning  round,  as  the  giant 
form  of  the  Norse  king  threw  its  vast  shadow  over  the 
ground. 

"  And  if  I  take  the  offer,  what  will  Harold  son  of  God- 
win give  to  my  friend  and  ally  Hardrada  of  Norway  1 " 

The  Saxon  rider  reared  his  head  at  these  words,  and 
gazed  on  the  large  front  of  Hardrada,  as  he  answered  loud 
and  distinct,  — 

''  Seven  feet  of  land  for  a  grave,  or,  seeing  that  he  is 
taller  than  other  men,  as  much  more  as  his  corse  may 
demand  !  " 

"  Then  go  back,  and  tell  Harold  my  brother  to  get 
ready  for  battle ;  for  never  shall  the  Scalds  and  the  war- 


HAROLD.  225 

riors  of  Norway  say  that  Tostig  lured  their  king  in  his 
cause  to  betray  him  to  his  foe.  Here  did  he  come,  and 
here  came  I,  to  win  as  the  brave  win,  or  die  as  the  brave 
die ! " 

A  rider  of  younger  and  slighter  form  than  the  rest  here 
whispered  the  Saxon  king,  — 

"  Delay  no  more,  or  thy  men's  hearts  will  fear  treason." 

"  The  tie  is  rent  from  my  heart,  0  Haco,"  answered 
the  king,  "and  the  heart  flies  back  to  our  England." 

He  waved  his  hand,  turned  his  steed,  and  rode  oflf. 
The  eye  of  Hardrada  followed  the  horsemen. 

"  And  who,"  he  asked,  calmly,  "  is  that  man  who  spoke 
so  welH"^ 

"  King  Harold  !  "  answered  Tostig,  briefly. 

"  How  ! "  cried  the  Norseman,  reddening,  "  how  was 
not  that  made  know^n  to  me  before  1  Never  should  he 
have  gone  back,  —  never  told  hereafter  the  doom  of  this 
day!" 

With  all  his  ferocity,  his  envy,  his  grudge  to  Harold, 
and  his  treason  to  England,  some  rude  notions  of  honor 
still  lay  confused  in  the  breast  of  the  Saxon  ;  and  he 
answered  stoutly,  — 

"  Imprudent  was  Harold's  coming,  and  great  his 
danger  :  but  he  came  to  offer  me  peace  and  dominion. 
Had  I  betrayed  him,  I  had  not  been  his  foe,  but  his 
murderer  !  " 

The  Norse  king  smiled  approvingly,  and,  turning  to 
his  chiefs,  said  drily,  — 

"  That  man  was  shorter  than  some  of  us,  but  he  rode 
firm  in  his  stirrups." 

And  then  this  extraordinary  person,  who  united  in 
himself  all  the  types  of  an  age  that  vanished  forever  in 
his  grave,  and  who  is  the  more  interesting,  as  in  him  we 

1   Snorro  Sturleson. 
VOL.  II.  — 15 


226  HAROLD. 

see  the  race  from  wliich  the  Norman  sprang,  began,  in  the 
rich  full  voice  that  pealed  deep  as  an  organ,  to  chant  his 
impromptu  war-song.  He  halted  in  the  midst,  and  with 
great  composure  said,  — 

"  That  verse  is  but  ill-tuned  :  I  must  try  a  better."  ^ 

He  passed  his  hand  over  his  brow,  mused  an  instant, 
and  then,  with  his  fair  face  all  illumined,  he  burst  forth 
as  inspired. 

This  time,  air,  rhythm,  words,  all  so  chimed  in  with 
his  own  enthusiasm  and  that  of  his  men,  that  the  effect 
was  inexpressible.  It  was,  indeed,  like  the  charm  of 
those  runes  which  are  said  to  have  maddened  the  Berserker 
with  the  frenzy  of  war. 

Meanwhile  the  Saxon  phalanx  came  on,  slow  and  firm, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  the  battle  began.  It  commenced 
first  with  the  charge  of  the  English  cavalry  (never  nu- 
merous), led  by  Leofwine  and  Haco,  but  the  double  pali- 
sade of  the  Norman  spears  formed  an  impassable  barrier ; 
and  the  horseman,  recoiling  from  the  frieze,  rode  round 
the  iron  circle  without  otlier  damage  than  the  spear  and 
javelin  could  effect.  Meanwhile,  King  Harold,  who  had 
dismounted,  marched,  as  was  his  wont,  with  the  body  of 
footmen.  He  kept  his  post  in  the  hollow  of  the  triangular 
wedge,  whence  he  could  best  issue  his  orders.  Avoiding 
the  side  over  which  Tostig  presided,  he  halted  his  array 
in  full  centre  of  the  enemy  where  the  Eavager  of  the 
World,  streaming  high  above  the  inner  rampart  of  shields, 
showed  the  presence  of  the  giant  Hardrada. 

The  air  was  now  literally  dai'kened  with  the  flights  of 
arrows  and  spears ;  and  in  a  war  of  missives,  the  Saxons 
were  less  skilled  than  the  Norsemen.  Still  King  Harold 
restrained  the  ardor  of  his  men,  who,  sore  harassed  by  the 
darts,  yearned  to  close  on  the  foe.     He  himself,  standing 

1  Snorro  Sturleson. 


HAP.OLD.  227 

on  a  little  eminence,  more  exposed  than  his  meanest 
soldier,  deliberately  eyed  the  sallies  of  the  horse,  and 
watched  the  moment  he  foresaw,  when,  encouraged  by 
his  own  suspense,  and  the  feeble  attacks  of  the  cavalry, 
the  jSTorsemen  would  lift  their  spears  from  the  ground, 
and  advance  themselves  to  the  assault.  That  moment 
came ;  unable  to  withhold  their  own  fiery  zeal,  stimulated 
by  the  tromp  and  the  clash,  and  the  war-hymns  of  their 
king,  and  his  choral  Scalds,  the  Norsemen  broke  ground 
and  came  on. 

"  To  your  axes,  and  charge  !  "  cried  Harold  ;  and  pass- 
ing at  once  from  the  centre  to  the  front,  he  led  on  the 
array. 

The  impetus  of  that  artful  phalanx  was  tremendous  ;  it 
pierced  through  the  ring  of  the  Norwegians  ;  it  clove  into 
the  rampart  of  shields;  and  King  Harold's  battle-axe  was 
the  first  that  shivered  that  wall  of  steel ;  his  step  the  first 
that  strode  into  the  innermost  circle  that  guarded  the 
Ravager  of  the  World. 

Then  forth,  from  under  the  shade  of  that  great  flag, 
came,  himself  also  on  foot,  Harold  Hardrada  :  sliouting 
and  chanting,  he  leaped  with  long  strides  into  the  thick 
of  the  onslaught.  He  had  flung  away  his  shield,  and 
swaying  with  both  hands  his  enormous  sword,  he  hewed 
down  man  after  man,  till  space  grew  clear  before  him ;  and 
the  English,  recoiling  in  awe  before  an  image  of  height 
and  strength  that  seemed  superhuman,  left  but  one  form 
standing  firm,  and  in  front,  to  oppose  his  way. 

At  that  moment  the  whole  strife  seemed  not  to  belong 
to  an  age  comparatively  modern :  it  took  a  character  of 
remotest  eld ;  and  Thor  and  Odin  seemed  to  have  returned 
to  the  earth.  Behind  this  towering  and  Titan  warrior, 
their  wild  hair  streaming  long  under  their  helms,  came 
his  Scalds,  all  singing  their  hymns,  drunk  with  the  mad- 


228  HAROLD. 

ness  of  battle.  And  the  Ravager  of  the  World  tossed  and 
flapped  as  it  followed,  so  that  the  vast  raven  depicted  on 
its  folds  seemed  horrid  with  life.  And  calm  and  alone, 
his  eye  watchful,  his  axe  lifted,  his  foot  ready  for  rush  or 
for  spring, — but  tirm  as  an  oak  against  flight, — stood 
the  last  of  the  Saxon  kings. 

Down  bounded  Hardrada,  and  down  shore  his  sword  ; 
King  Harold's  shield  was  cloven  in  two,  and  the  force  of 
the  blow  brought  himself  to  his  knee.  But,  as  swift  as 
the  flash  of  that  sword,  he  sprang  to  his  feet ;  and  while 
Hardrada  still  bowed  his  head,  not  recovered  from  the 
force  of  his  blow,  the  axe  of  the  Saxon  came  so  full  on 
his  helmet,  that  the  giant  reeled,  dropped  his  sword,  and 
staggered  back.  His  Scalds  and  his  chiefs  rushed  around 
him.  That  gallant  stand  of  King  Harold  saved  his 
English  from  flight ;  and  now,  as  they  saw  him  almost 
lost  in  the  throng,  yet  still  cleaving  his  way  —  on,  on  — 
to  the  raven  standard,  they  rallied  with  one  heart,  and 
shouting  forth,  "  Out,  out !  Holy  crosse  !  "  forced  their 
way  to  his  side,  and  the  fight  now  waged  hot  and  equal, 
hand  to  hand.  Meanwhile,  Hardrada,  borne  a  little 
apart,  and  relieved  from  his  dinted  helmet,  recovered  the 
shock  of  the  weightiest  blow  that  had  ever  dimmed  his 
eye  and  numbed  his  hand.  Tossing  the  helmet  on  the 
ground,  his  bright  locks  glittering  like  sunbeams,  he 
rushed  back  to  the  melee.  Again,  helm  and  mail  went 
down  before  him  ;  again,  through  the  crowd  he  saw  the 
arm  that  had  smitten  him  ;  again,  he  sprang  forwards  to 
finish  the  war  with  a  blow,  —  when  a  shaft  from  some 
distant  bow  p)ierced  the  throat  which  the  casque  now  left 
bare  ;  a  sound  like  the  wail  of  a  death-song  murmured 
brokenly  from  his  lips,  which  then  gushed  out  with 
blood,  and  tossing  up  his  arras  wildly,  he  fell  to  the 
ground,  a  corpse.     At  that  sight  a  yell  of  such  terror  and 


HAROLD.  229 

■woe  and  wrath,  all  commingled,  broke  from  the  Norsemen, 
that  it  hushed  the  very  war  for  the  moment. 

"  On  !  "  cried  the  Saxon  king,  "  let  our  earth  take  its 
spoiler !     On  to  the  standard,  and  the  day  is  our  own  !  " 

"  On  to  the  standard  ! "  cried  Haco,  who,  his  horse 
slain  ;inder  him,  all  bloody  with  wounds  not  his  own, 
now  came  to  the  king's  side.  Grim  and  tall  rose  the 
standard,  and  the  streamer  shrieked  and  flapped  in  tlie 
wind  as  if  the  raven  had  voice,  when  right  before  Harold, 
right  between  him  and  the  banner,  stood  Tostig  his 
brother,  known  by  the  splendor  of  his  mail,  the  gold 
work  on  his  mantle,  —  known  by  the  fierce  laugh  and 
defying  voice. 

"  What  matters  ! "  cried  Haco  ;  "  strike,  0  king,  for 
thy  crown  !  " 

Harold's  hand  griped  Haco's  arm  convulsively ;  he 
lowered  his  axe,  turned  round,  and  passed  shudderingly 
away. 

Both  armies  now  paused  from  the  attack  ;  for  both 
were  thrown  into  great  disorder,  and  each  gladly  gave 
respite  to  the  other,  to  re-form  its  own  shattered  array. 

The  Norsemen  were  not  the  soldiers  to  yield  because 
their  leader  was  slain,  —  rather  the  more  resolute  to  fight, 
since  revenge  was  now  added  to  valor ;  yet,  but  for  the 
daring  and  promptness  with  wliich  Tostig  had  cut  his 
way  to  the  standard,  the  day  had   been  already  decided. 

During  the  pause,  Harold,  summoning  Gurth,  said  to 
him  in  great  emotion  :  "  For  the  sake  of  Nature,  for  the 
love  of  God,  go,  0  Gurth,  —  go  to  Tostig ;  urge  him,  now 
Hardrada  is  dead,  urge  him  to  peace.  All  that  we  can 
proffer  with  honor,  proffer,  —  quarter  and  free  retreat  to 
every  Norseman.  Oh,  save  me,  save  us  from  a  brother's 
blood  ! " 

1  Sharon  Turner's  "  Anglo  Saxons,"  vol.  ii.  p.  396.  Snorro 
Sturleson. 


230  HAROLD. 

Gurth  lifted  his  helmet,  and  kissed  the  mailed  hand 
that  grasped  his  own. 

"  I  go,"  said  he.  And  so,  bareheaded,  and  with  a 
single  trumpeter,  he  went  to  the  hostile  lines. 

Harold  awaited  him  in  great  agitation  ;  nor  could  any 
man  have  guessed  what  bitter  and  awful  thoughts  lay  in 
that  heart,  from  which,  in  the  way  to  power,  tie  after 
tie  had  been  wrenched  away.  He  did  not  wait  long ; 
and  even  before  Gurth  rejoined  him,  he  knew,  by  an 
xmanimous  shout  of  fury,  to  which  the  clash  of  countless 
shields  chimed  in,  that  the  mission  had  been  in  vain. 

Tostig  had  refused  to  hear  Gurth,  save  in  presence  of 
the  I^orwegian  chiefs  ;  and  when  the  message  had  been 
delivered,  they  all  cried,  "  We  would  rather  fall  one  across 
the  corpse  of  the  other,^  than  leave  a  field  in  which  our 
king  was  slain." 

"Ye  hear  them,"  said  Tostig;  "as  they  speak,  speak 
I." 

"  Not  mine  this  guilt,  too,  0  God  ! "  said  Harold, 
solemnly  lifting  his  hand  on  high.  "  Now,  then,  to 
duty." 

By  this  time  the  Norwegian  reinforcements  had  ar- 
rived from  the  ships,  and  this  for  a  short  time  rendered 
the  conflict  that  immediately  ensued  uncertain  and 
critical.  But  Harold's  generalship  was  now  as  consum- 
mate as  his  valor  had  been  daring.  He  kept  his  men  true 
to  their  irrefragable  line.  Even  if  fragments  splintered 
off,  each  fragment  threw  itself  into  the  form  of  the  resist- 
less wedge.  One  Norwegian,  standing  on  the  bridge  of 
Stanford,  long  guarded  that  pass  ;  and  no  less  than  forty 
Saxons  are  said  to  have  perished  by  his  arm.  To  him 
the  English  king  sent  a  generous  pledge,  not  only  of 
safety  for  the  life,  but  honor  for  the  valor.  The  viking 
^  Suorro  Sturleson. 


HAROLD.  231 

refused  to  surrender,  and  fell  at  last  by  a  javelin  from  the 
hand  of  Haco.  As  if  in  him  had  been  embodied  the 
unyielding  war-god  of  the  Norsemen,  in  that  death  died 
the  last  hope  of  the  vikings.  They  fell  literally  where 
they  stood  ;  many,  from  sheer  exhaustion  and  the  weiglit 
of  their  mail,  died  without  a  blow.^  And  in  the  shades 
of  nightfall,  Harold  stood  amidst  the  shattered  rampart  of 
shields,  his  foot  on  the  corpse  of  the  standard-bearer,  his 
hand  on  the  Ravager  of  the  World. 

*'  Thy  brother's  corpse  is  borne  yonder,"  said  Haco,  in 
the  ear  of  the  king,  as,  wiping  the  blood  from  his  sword, 
he  plunged  it  back  into  the  sheath. 

1  The  quick  succession  of  events  allowed  the  Saxon  army  no 
time  to  bury  the  slain ;  and  the  bones  of  the  invaders  whitened 
the  field  of  battle  for  many  years  afterwards. 


232  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Young  Olave,  the  son  of  Hardrada,  had  happily  escaped 
the  slaughter.  A  strong  detachment  of  the  Norwegians 
had  still  remained  with  the  vessels ;  and  amongst  them 
some  prudent  old  chiefs,  who,  foreseeing  the  probable 
results  of  the  day,  and  knowing  that  Hardrada  would 
never  quit,  save  as  a  conqueror  or  a  corpse,  the  field  ou 
which  he  had  planted  the  Ravager  of  the  World,  had 
detained  the  prince  almost  by  force  from  sharing  the  fate 
of  his  father.  But  ere  those  vessels  could  put  out  to  sea, 
the  vigorous  measures  of  the  Saxon  king  had  already 
intercepted  the  retreat  of  the  vessels.  And  then,  ranging 
their  shields  as  a  wall  round  their  masts,  the  bold  vikings 
at  least  determined  to  die  as  men.  But  with  the  morning 
came  King  Harold  himself  to  the  banks  of  the  river,  and 
behind  him,  with  trailed  lances,  a  solemn  procession  that 
bore  the  body  of  the  Scald  king.  They  halted  on  the 
margin,  and  a  boat  was  launched  towards  the  Norwegian 
fleet,  bearing  a  monk  who  demanded  the  chiefs  to  send  a 
deputation,  headed  by  the  young  prince  himself,  to  receive 
the  corpse  of  their  king,  and  hear  the  proposals  of  the 
Saxon. 

The  vikings,  wlio  had  anticipated  no  preliminaries  to 
the  massacre  they  awaited,  did  not  hesitate  to  accept  these 
overtures.  Twelve  of  the  most  famous  chiefs  still  surviv- 
ing, and  Olave  himself,  entered  the  boat ;  and,  standing 
between  his  brothers  Leofwine  and  Gurth,  Harold  thus 
accosted  them  :  — 


HAROLD. 


233 


"  Your  king  invaded  a  people  that  had  given  hiui  no 
offence  :  he  has  paid  the  forfeit,  —  we  war  not  with  the 
dead  !  Give  to  his  remains  the  honors  due  to  the  brave. 
Without  ransom  or  condition,  we  yield  to  you  what  can 
no  longer  harm  us.  And  for  thee,  young  prince,"  con- 
tinued the  king,  with  a  tone  of  pity  in  his  voice,  as  he 
contemplated  the  stately  boyhood  and  proud  but  deep 
grief  in  the  face  of  Olave,  — "  for  thee,  wilt  thou  not 
live  to  learn  that  the  wars  of  Odin  are  treason  to  the 
Faith  of  the  Cross]  We  have  conquered,  — we  dare  not 
butcher.  Take  such  ships  as  ye  need  for  those  that  sur- 
vive. Three-and-twenty  I  offer  for  your  transport.  Eeturn 
to  your  native  shores,  and  guard  them  as  we  have  guarded 
ours.     Are  ye  contented  ? " 

Amongst  those  chiefs  was  a  stern  priest,  —  the  Bishop 
of  the  Orcades  :  he  advanced,  and  bent  his  knee  to  the 
king. 

•'  0  Lord  of  England,"  said  he,  "  yesterday  thou  didst 
conquer  the  form,  —  to-day,  the  soul.  And  never  more 
may  generous  Norsemen  invade  the  coast  of  him  wlio 
honors  the  dead  and  spares  the  living." 

"  Amen ! "  cried  the  chiefs,  and  they  all  knelt  to 
Harold.  The  young  prince  stood  a  moment  irresolute, 
for  his  dead  father  was  on  the  bier  before  him,  and  revenge 
was  yet  a  virtue  in  the  heart  of  a  sea-king.  But  lifting 
his  eyes  to  Harold's,  the  mild  and  gentle  majesty  of  the 
Saxon's  brow  was  irresistible  in  its  benign  command ;  and 
stretching  his  right  hand  to  the  king,  he  raised  on  high 
the  other,  and  said  aloud,  "  Faith  and  friendship  with 
thee  and  England  evermore." 

Then  all  the  cliiefs  rising,  they  gathered  round  the  bier, 
but  no  hand,  in  the  sight  of  the  conquering  foe,  lifted  the 
cloth  of  gold  that  covered  the  corpse  of  the  famous  king. 
The  bearers  of  the  bier  moved  on  slowly  towards  the  boat ; 


234  HAROLD, 

the  Norwegians  followed  with  measured  funereal  steps. 
And  not  till  the  bier  was  placed  on  board  the  royal  galley 
was  there  heard  the  wail  of  woe  ;  but  then  it  came  loud, 
and  deep,  and  dismal,  and  was  followed  by  a  burst  of 
wild  song  from  a  surviving  Scald. 

The  Norwegian  preparations  for  departure  were  soon 
made,  and  the  ships  vouchsafed  to  their  convoy  raised 
anchor,  and  sailed  down  the  stream.  Harold's  eye 
watched  the  ships  from  the  river  banks. 

"  And  there,"  said  he,  at  last,  "  there  glide  the  last 
jsails  that  shall  ever  bear  the  devastating  raven  to  the 
shores  of  England." 

Truly,  in  that  field  had  been  the  most  signal  defeat 
those  warriors,  hitherto  almost  invincible,  had  known. 
Ou  that  bier  lay  the  last  son  of  Berserker  and  sea-king  ; 
and  be  it,  O  Harold,  remembered  in  thine  honor,  that  not 
by  the  Norman,  but  by  thee,  true-hearted  Saxon,  was 
trampled  on  the  English  soil  the  Ravager  of  the  World  !  ^ 

"So  be  it,"  said  Haco,  "and  so,  methinks,  will  it  be. 
But  forget  not  the  descendant  of  the  Norsemen,  the  Count 
of  Rouen  !  " 

Harold  started,  and  turned  to  his  chiefs.  "  Sound 
trumpet,  and  fall  in.  To  York  we  march.  There,  re- 
settle the  earldom,  collect  the  spoil,  and  then  back,  my  men, 
to  the  southern  shores.  Yet  first  kneel  thou,  Haco,  son 
of  my  brother  Sweyn  :  thy  deeds  were  done  in  the  light  of 
heaven,  in  the  siglit  of  w^arriors  in  the  open  field  :  so 
should  thine  honors  find  thee!  Not  with  the  vain 
fripperies  of  Norman  knighthood  do  I  deck  thee,  but  make 
thee  one  of  the  elder  brotherhood  of  Minister  and  Miles.     I 

1  It  may  lie  said  indeed,  that,  in  the  followins;  reif^n,  the  Panes, 
under  Osbiorn  (brother  of  King  Sweyn),  sailed  up  the  Humher  : 
but  it  was  to  assist  the  English,  not  to  invade  them.  They  were 
bmKjht  off"by  the  Norman,  —  not  conquered. 


HAROLD.  235 

gird  round  thy  loins  mine  own  baldric  of  pure  silver  ;  I 
place  in  thy  hand  mine  own  sword  of  plain  steel,  and  bid 
thee  rise  to  take  place  in  council  and  camps  amongst  the 
proceres  of  England,  —  earl  of  Hertford  and  Essex,  Boy," 
whispered  the  king,  as  he  bent  over  the  pale  cheek  of  his 
nephew,  "  thank  not  me.  From  me  the  thanks  should 
come.  On  the  day  that  saw  Tostig's  crime  and  his  death, 
thou  didst  purify  the  name  of  my  brother  Sweyn  !  On 
to  our  city  of  York ! " 

High  banquet  was  held  in  York ;  and,  according  to 
the  customs  of  the  Saxon  monarchs,  the  king  could  not 
absent  himself  from  the  Victory  Feast  of  his  thegns. 
He  sat  at  the  head  of  the  board,  between  his  brothers. 
Morcar,  whose  departure  from  the  city  had  deprived  him 
of  a  share  in  the  battle,  had  arrived  that  day  with  his 
brother  Edwin,  whom  he  had  gone  to  summon  to  his  aid. 
And  though  the  young  earls  envied  the  fame  they  had  not 
shared,  the  envy  was  noble. 

Gay  and  boisterous  was  the  wassail ;  and  lively  song, 
long  neglected  in  England,  woke,  as  its  wakes  ever,  at 
the  breath  of  Joy  and  Fame.  As  if  in  the  days  of  Alfred, 
the  harp  passed  from  hand  to  hand  :  martial  and  rough  the 
strain  beneath  the  touch  of  the  Anglo-Dane,  more  refined 
and  thoughtful  the  lay  when  it  chimed  to  the  voice  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon.  But  the  memory  of  Tostig,  —  all  guilty 
though  he  was,  —  a  brother  slain  in  war  with  a  brother, 
lay  heavy  on  Harold's  soul.  Still,  so  had  he  schooled  and 
trained  himself  to  live  but  for  England  —  know  no  joy 
and  no  woe  not  hers  —  that  by  degrees  and  strong  efforts 
he  shook  off  his  gloom.  And  music,  and  song,  and  wine, 
and  blazing  lights,  and  the  proud  sight  of  those  long  lines 
of  valiant  men,  whose  hearts  had  beat  and  whose  hands 
had  triumphed  in  the  same  cause,  all  aided  to  link  his 
senses  with  the  gladness  of  the  hour. 


236  HAROLD. 

And  uow,  as  night  advanced,  Leofvvine,  who  was  ever  a 
favorite  in  the  banquet,  as  Gurth  in  the  council,  rose  to 
propose  the  drink-heel,  which  carries  the  most  characteris- 
tic of  our  modern  social  customs  to  an  antiquity  so  remote. 
And  the  roar  was  hushed  at  the  sight  of  the  young  earl's 
winsome  face.  With  due  decorum  he  uncovered  his  head,i 
composed  his  countenance,  and  began,  — 

"  Craving  forgiveness  of  my  lord  the  king,  and  this 
noble  assembly,"  said  Leofwine,  "  in  which  are  so  many 
from  Avhom  what  I  intend  to  propose  would  come  with 
better  grace,  I  would  remind  you  that  William,  Count  of 
the  Normans,  meditates  a  pleasure  excursion,  of  the  same 
nature  as  our  late  visitor  Harold  Hardrada's." 

A  scornful  laugh  ran  through  the  hall. 

"  And  as  we  English  are  hospitable  folk,  and  give  any 
man,  who  asks,  meat  and  board  for  one  night,  so  one  day's 
welcome,  methinks,  will  be  all  that  the  Count  of  the 
Normans  will  need  at  our  English  hands." 

Flushed  with  the  joyous  insolence  of  wine,  the  wassail- 
ers  roared  applause. 

"  Wherefore,  this  drink-lmd  to  William  of  Rouen  ! 
And,  to  borrow  a  saying  now  in  every  man's  lips,  and 
which,  I  think,  our  good  scops  will  take  care  that  our 
children's  children  shall  learn  by  heart,  —  since  he  covets 
our  Saxon  soil,  '  seven  feet  of  land '  in  frank  pledge  to 
him  forever ! " 

"  Drink-heel  to  William  the  Norman ! "  shouted  the 
revellers ;  and  each  man,  with  mocking  formality,  took 
off  his  cap,  kissed  his  hand,  and  bowed.^  "  Drmk-hcel  to 
William  the  Norman  !  "  and  tlie  shout  rolled  from  floor  to 
roof,  —  when,  in  the  midst  of  the  uproar,  a  man,  all  bedab- 
bled with  dust  and  mire,  rushed  into  the  hall,  rushed  through 

1  The  Saxons  sat  at  meals  with  their  heads  covered. 

2  Henry. 


HAROLD.  237 

the  rows  of  the  banqueters,  rushed  to  the  throne-chair 
of  Harold,  and  cried  aloud,  "  William  the  Norman  is  en- 
camped on  the  shores  of  Sussex  ;  and,  with  the  miglitiest 
armament  ever  yet  seen  in  England,  is  ravaging  the  land 
far  and  near  !  " 


BOOK  XII. 


THE    BATTLE    OF    HASTINGS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

In  the  heart  of  the  forest-land  in  which  Hilda's  abode 
was  situated,  a  gloomy  pool  reflected  upon  its  stagnant 
waters  the  still  shadows  of  the  autumnal  foliage.  As 
is  common  in  ancient  forests  in  the  neighborhood  of 
men's  wants,  the  trees  were  dwarfed  in  height  by  re- 
peated loppings,  and  the  boughs  sprang  from  the 
hollow,  gnarled  boles  of  pollard  oaks  and  beeches;  the 
trunks,  vast  in  girth,  and  covered  with  mosses  and 
whitening  canker-stains  or  wreaths  of  ivy,  spoke  of 
the  most  remote  antiquity ;  but  the  boughs  which 
their  lingering  and  mutilated  life  put  forth,  were 
either  thin  and  feeble  with  innumerable  branchlets, 
or  were  centred  on  some  solitary,  distorted  limb  which 
the  woodman's  axe  had  spared.  The  trees  tlius  assumed 
all  manner  of  crooked,  deformed,  fantastic  shapes:  all 
betokening  age,  and  all  decay  ;  all,  in  despite  of  the  noise- 
less solitude  around,  proclaiming  the  waste  and  ravages 
of  man. 

The  time  was  that  of  tlie  first  watches  of  night,  when 
the  autumnal  moon  was  brightest  and  broadest.  You 
might  see,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  pool,  the  antlers 
of  the  deer  every  now  and  then  moving  restlessly  above 


240  HAROLD. 

the  fern  in  which  they  had  made  their  couch,  and,  through 
the  nearer  glades,  the  hares  and  conies  stealing  forth  to 
sport  or  to  feed ;  or  the  bat,  wheeling  low,  in  chase  of  the 
forest  moth.  From  the  thickest  part  of  the  copse  came  a 
slow,  human  foot,  and  Hilda,  emerging,  paused  by  the 
waters  of  the  pool.  That  serene  and  stony  calm  habitual 
to  her  features  was  gone;  sorrow  and  passion  had  seized 
the  soul  of  the  Vala,  in  the  midst  of  its  fancied  security 
from  the  troubles  it  presumed  to  foresee  for  others.  The 
lines  of  the  face  were  deep  and  careworn,  —  age  had  come 
on  with  rapid  strides,  —  and  the  light  of  the  eye  Avas 
vague  and  unsettled,  as  if  the  lofty  reason  shook,  terrified 
in  its  pride,  at  last. 

"  Alone,  alone  !  "  she  murmured,  half  aloud :  "  yea, 
evermore  alone  !  And  the  grandchild  I  had  reared  to 
be  the  mother  of  kings,  —  whose  fate,  from  the  cradle, 
seemed  linked  with  royalty  and  love ;  in  whom,  watch- 
ing and  hoping  for,  in  whom  loving  and  heeding,  me- 
thought  I  lived  again  the  sweet  human  life  —  hath  gone 
from  my  hearth,  forsaken,  broken-hearted,  withering 
down  to  the  grave  under  the  shade  of  the  barren  cloister ! 
Is  mine  heart,  then,  all  a  lie  1  Are  the  gods  who  led 
Odin  from  the  Scythian  East  but  the  juggling  fiends 
whom  the  craven  Christian  abhors  1  Lo !  the  Wine 
Month  has  come;  a  few  nights  more,  and  the  sun 
which  all  prophecy  foretold  should  go  down  on  the 
union  of  the  -king  and  the  maid,  shall  bring  round  the 
appointed  day :  yet  Aldyth  still  lives,  and  Edith  still 
withers;  and  War  stands  side  by  side  with  the  Church, 
between  the  betrothed  and  the  altar.  Verily,  verily,  my 
spirit  hath  lost  its  power,  and  leaves  me  bowed,  in  the 
awe  of  night,  a  feeble,  aged,  hopeless,  childless  woman !  " 

Tears  of  human  weakness  rolled  down  the  Vala's 
cheeks.       At  that  moment  a  laugh  came  from  a  thing 


HAROLD.  241 

that  had  seemed  like  the  fallen  trunk  of  a  tree,  or  a 
trough  in  which  the  herdsman  waters  his  cattle,  so  still 
and  shapeless  and  undefined  it  had  lain  amongst  the 
rank  weeds  and  nightshade  and  trailing  creepers  on  the 
marge  of  the  pool.  The  laugh  was  low,  yet  fearful  to 
hear. 

Slowly  the  thing  moved,  and  rose,  and  took  the  out- 
line of  a  human  form;  and  the  Prophetess  heheld  the 
witch  whose  sleep  she  had  disturbed  by  the  Saxon's 
grave. 

"  Where  is  the  banner  1  "  said  the  witch,  laying  her 
hand  on  Hilda's  arm,  and  looking  into  her  face  with 
bleared  and  rheumy  eyes,  — "  where  is  the  banner  thy 
handmaids  were  weaving  for  Harold  the  Earl  ?  Why 
didst  thou  lay  aside  that  labor  of  love  for  Harold  the 
King?  Hie  thee  home,  and  bid  thy  maidens  ply  all 
night  at  the  work ;  make  it  potent  with  rune  and  with 
spell,  and  with  gums  of  the  seid.  Take  the  banner  to 
Harold  the  King  as  a  marriage-gift;  for  the  day  of  liis 
birth  shall  be  still  the  day  of  his  nuptials  with  Edith  the 
Eair!  " 

Hilda  gazed  on  the  hideous  form  before  her;  and  so 
had  her  soul  fallen  from  its  arrogant  pride  of  place,  that 
instead  of  the  scorn  with  which  so  foul  a  pretender  to  tlie 
Great  Art  had  before  inspired  the  King-born  Prophetess, 
her  veins  tingled  with  credulous  awe. 

"  Art  thou  a  mortal  like  myself, "  she  said,  after  a 
pause,  "  or  one  of  those  beings  often  seen  by  the  shep- 
herd in  mist  and  rain,  driving  before  them  their  shadowy 
flocks?  one  of  those  of  Avhom  no  man  knoweth  whether 
they  are  of  earth  or  of  Helheim  ?  whether  they  have  ever 
known  the  lot  and  conditions  of  flesh,  or  are  but  some 
dismal  race  between  body  and  spirit,  hateful  alike  to  gods 
and  to  men  1  " 

VOL.  II.  — 16 


242  HAROLD. 

The  dreadful  hag  shook  her  head,  as  if  refusing  to 
answer  the  question,  and  said,  — 

"  Sit  we  down,  sit  we  down  by  the  dead,  dull  pool, 
and  if  thou  wouldst  be  wise  as  I  am,  wake  up  all  thy 
wrongs,  fill  thyself  with  hate,  and  let  thy  thoughts  be 
curses.  Nothing  is  strong  on  earth  but  the  Will;  and 
hate  to  the  will  is  as  the  iron  in  the  hands  of  the 
war-man. " 

"  Ha !  "  answered  Hilda,  "  then,  thou  art  indeed 
one  of  the  loathsome  brood  whose  magic  is  born,  not 
of  the  aspiring  soul,  but  the  fiend-like  heart.  And 
between  us  there  is  no  union.  I  am  of  the  race  of 
those  whom  priests  and  kings  reverenced  and  honored 
as  the  oracles  of  Heaven;  and  rather  let  my  lore  be 
dimmed  and  weakened,  in  admitting  the  humanities 
of  hope  and  love,  than  be  lightened  by  the  glare  of 
the  wrath  that  Lok  and  Rana  bear  the  children  of 
men. " 

"  What !  art  thou  so  base  and  so  doting, "  said  the 
hag,  with  fierce  contempt,  "  as  to  know  that  another 
has  supplanted  thine  Edith,  that  all  the  schemes  of  thy 
life  are  undone,  and  yet  feel  no  hate  for  the  man  who 
hath  wronged  her  and  thee  ?  —  the  man  who  had  never 
been  king  if  thou  hadst  not  breathed  into  him  the 
ambition  of  rule?     Think,  and  curse!  " 

"  My  curse  would  wither  the  heart  that  is  entwined 
within  his,  "  answered  Hilda;  "and,  "she  added  abruptly, 
as  if  eager  to  escape  from  her  own  impulses,  "  didst 
thou  not  tell  me,  even  now,  that  the  wrong  would  be 
redressed,  and  his  betrothed  yet  be  his  bride  on  the 
appointed  day  ?  " 

"  Ha !  home,  then !  —  home !  and  weave  the  charmed 
woof  of  the  banner,  broider  it  with  zimmes  and  with 
gold  worthy  the  standard  of  a  king ;  for  I  tell  thee,  that 


HAROLD.  243 

where  that  banner  is  planted  shall  Edith  clasp  with 
bridal  arms  her  adored.  And  the  hivata  thou  hast 
read  by  the  baiitastein,  and  in  the  temple  of  the  Briton's 
revengeful  gods,  shall  be  fulfilled." 

"Dark  daughter  of  Hela,"  said  the  Prophetess, 
"  whether  demon  or  god  hath  inspired  thee,  I  hear  in 
my  spirit  a  voice  that  tells  me  thou  hast  pierced  to  a 
truth  that  my  lore  could  not  reach.  Thou  art  house- 
less and  poor;  I  will  give  wealth  to  thine  age  if  thou 
wilt  stand  with  me  by  the  altar  of  Thor,  and  let  thy 
galdra  unriddle  the  secrets  that  have  baffled  mine  own. 
All  foreshown  to  me  hath  ever  come  to  pass,  but  in  a 
sense  other  than  that  in  which  my  soul  read  the  rune 
and  the  dream,  the  leaf  and  the  fount,  the  star  and  the 
Scin-l;eca.  My  husband  slain  in  his  youth ;  my  daugh- 
ter maddened  with  woe;  her  lord  murdered  on  his 
hearthstone ;  Sweyn,  whom  I  loved  as  my  child "  — 
the  Vala,  paused,  contending  against  her  own  emotions 
—  "I  loved  them  all, "  she  faltered,  clasping  her  hands ; 
"for  them  I  tasked  the  future.  The  future  promised 
fair;  I  lured  them  to  their  doom,  and  when  the  doom 
came,  lo !  the  promise  was  kept !  but  how  1  —  and  now, 
Edith,  the  last  of  my  race;  Harold,  the  pride  of  my 
pride  !  —  speak,  thing  of  Horror  and  Night,  —  canst  thou 
disentangle  the  web  in  which  my  soul  struggles,  weak 
as  the  fly  in  the  spider's  mesh?  " 

"  On  the  third  night  from  this  will  I  stand  with 
thee  by  the  altar  of  Thor,  and  unriddle  the  rede  of 
my  masters,  unknown  and  unguessed,  whom  thou  hadst 
duteously  served.  And  ere  the  sun  rise,  the  greatest 
mystery  earth  knows  shall  be  bare  to  thy  soul!  " 

As  the  witch  spoke,  a  cloud  passed  over  the  moon; 
and  before  the  light  broke  forth  again  the  hag  had 
vanished.     There  was  only  seen   in  the  dull    pool,   the 


244  HAROLD. 

water-rat  swimming  through  the  rank  sedges;  only  in 
the  forest,  the  gray  wings  of  the  owl,  fluttering  heavily 
across  the  glades;  only  in  the  grass,  the  red  eyes  of 
the  bloated  toad. 

Then  Hilda  went  slowly  home,  and  the  maids  worked 
all  night  at  the  charmed  banner.  All  that  night,  too, 
the  watch-dogs  howled  in  the  yard,  through  the  ruined 
peristyle,  —  howled  in  rage  and  in  fear.  And  under  the 
lattice  of  the  room  in  which  the  maids  broidered  the 
banner,  and  the  Prophetess  muttered  her  charm,  there 
couched,  muttering  also,  a  dark,  shapeless  thing,  at 
which  those  dogs  howled  in  rage  and  in  fear. 


HAROLD.  245 


CHAPTER  II. 

All  within  the  palace  of  Westminster  shoAved  the  con- 
fusion and  dismay  of  the  awful  time;  —  all,  at  least, 
save  the  council-chamber,  in  which  Harold,  who  had 
arrived  the  night  before,  conferred  with  his  thegns. 
It  was  evening:  the  courtyards  and  the  halls  were 
filled  with  armed  men,  and  almost  with  every  hour 
came  rider  and  bode  from  the  Sussex  shores.  In  the 
corridors  the  churchmen  grouped  and  whispered,  as 
they  had  whispered  and  grouped  in  the  day  of  King 
Edward's  death.  Stigand  passed  among  them,  pale 
and  thoughtful.  The  serge  gowns  came  rustling  round 
the  archprelate  for  counsel  or  courage. 

"  Shall  we  go  forth  with  the  king's  army, "  asked 
a  young  monk,  bolder  than  tlie  rest,  "  to  animate  the 
host  Avith  prayer  and  hymn  1  " 

"  Eool !  "  said  the  miserly  prelate  — "  fool !  if  we  do 
so,  and  the  Norman  conquer,  what  become  of  our 
abbacies  and  convent  lands?  The  duke  wars  against 
Harold,  not  England.     If  he  slay  Harold  —  " 

"What  then f" 

"  The  Atheling  is  left  us  yet.  Stay  we  here  and 
guard  the  last  prince  of  the  house  of  Cerdic,"  whispered 
Stigand,  and  he  swept  on. 

In  the  chamber  in  which  Edward  had  breathed  his 
last,  his  widowed  queen,  with  Aldyth  her  successor, 
and  Githa  and  some  other  ladies,  waited  the  decision 
of  the  council.  By  one  of  the  windows  stood,  clasping 
each  other  by  the  hand,  the  fair  young  bride  of  Gurth, 


246  HAEOLD. 

and  the  betrothed  of  the  gay  Leofwine,  Githa  sat  alone, 
bowing  lier  face  over  her  hands,  —  desolate,  mourning 
for  the  fate  of  her  traitor  son;  and  the  wounds  tliat  the 
recent  and  holier  death  of  Thyra  had  inflicted  bled  afresh. 
And  the  holy  lady  of  Edw^ard  attempted  in  vain,  by 
pious  adjurations,  to  comfort  Aldyth,  who,  scarcely  heed- 
ing her,  started  ever  and  anon  with  impatient  terror, 
muttering  to  herself,  "  Shall  I  lose  this  crown  too?  " 

In  the  coimcil-hall  debate  waxed  warm, —  which  was 
the  wiser,  to  meet  William  at  once  in  the  battle-field, 
or  to  delay  till  all  the  forces  Harcld  might  expect  (and 
which  he  had  ordered  to  be  levied,  in  his  rapid  march 
from  York)  could  swell  his  host  ? 

"  If  we  retire  before  the  enemy, "  said  Gurth,  "  leav- 
ing him  in  a  strange  land,  winter  approaching,  his  forage 
will  fail.  He  will  scarce  dare  to  march  upon  London: 
if  he  does,  we  shall  be  better  prepared  to  encounter  him. 
My  voice  is  against  resting  all  on  a  single  battle." 

"  Is  that  thy  choice  1  "  said  Vebba,  indignantly.  "  Not 
so,  I  am  sure,  Avould  have  chosen  thy  fatlier;  not  so 
think  the  Saxons  of  Kent.  The  Korman  is  laying  waste 
all  the  lands  of  thy  subjects.  Lord  Harold ;  living  on 
plunder,  as  a  robber,  in  the  realm  of  King  Alfred. 
Dost  thou  think  that  men  will  get  better  heart  to  fight 
for  their  country  by  hearing  that  their  king  shrinks  from 
the  danger?  " 

"  Thou  speakest  well  and  wisely, "  said  Haco ;  and  all 
eyes  turned  to  the  young  son  of  Sweyn,  as  to  one  who 
best  knew  the  character  of  the  hostile  army  and  the  skill 
of  its  chief.  "  We  have  now  with  us  a  force  flushed 
with  conquest  over  a  foe  hitherto  deemed  invincible. 
Men  who  have  conquered  the  Norwegian  will  not  shrink 
from  the  Norman.  Victory  depends  upon  ardor  more 
than  numbers.     Every  hour  of  delay  damps  the  ardor. 


HAROLD.  247 

Are  we  sure  that  it  will  swell  the  numhers  1  What  I 
dread  most  is  not  the  sword  of  the  Norman  Duke, —  it  is 
his  craft.  Rely  upon  it,  that  if  we  meet  him  not  soon, 
he  will  march  straight  to  London.  He  will  proclaim  by 
the  way,  that  he  comes  not  to  seize  the  throne,  hut  to 
punish  Harold,  and  abide  by  the  Witan,  or  perchance  by 
the  word  of  the  Roman  pontiff.  The  terror  of  his  arma- 
ment unresisted  will  spread  like  a  panic  through  the  land. 
Many  will  be  decoyed  by  his  false  pretexts,  many  awed 
by  a  force  that  the  king  dare  not  meet.  If  he  come 
in  sight  of  the  city,  think  you  that  merchants  and 
cheapmen  will  not  be  daunted  by  the  thought  of  pillage 
and  sack?  They  will  be  the  first  to  capitulate  at  the 
first  house  which  is  fired.  The  city  is  weak  to  guard 
against  siege ;  its  walls  long  neglected ;  and  in  sieges  the 
Normans  are  famous.  Are  we  so  united  (the  king's  rule 
thus  fresh),  but  what  no  cabals,  no  dissensions  will 
break  out  amongst  ourselves  ?  If  the  duke  come,  as 
come  he  will,  in  the  name  of  the  Church,  may  not  the 
churchmen  set  up  some  new  pretender  to  the  crown, — • 
perchance  the  child  Edgar?  And,  divided  against  our- 
selves, how  ingloriously  should  we  fall!  Besides,  this 
land,  though  never  before  have  the  links  between  prov- 
ince and  province  been  drawn  so  close,  hath  yet 
demarcations  that  make  the  people  selfish.  The  North- 
umbrians, I  fear,  will  not  stir  to  aid  London,  and 
Mercia  will  hold  aloof  from  our  peril.  Grant  that 
William  once  seize  London,  all  England  is  broken  up 
and  dispirited ;  each  shire,  nay,  each  town,  looking  only 
to  itself.  Talk  of  delay  as  wearing  out  the  strength  of 
the  foe!  No,  it  would  wear  out  our  own.  Little 
eno',  I  fear,  is  yet  left  in  our  treasury.  If  William 
seize  London,  that  treasury  is  his,  with  all  the  wealth 
of  our  burgesses.     How  should  we  maintain  an  army, 


248  HAROLD. 

except  by  preying  on  the  people,  and  thus  discontent- 
ing them?  Where  guard  that  army?  Where  are  our 
forts?  where  our  mountains?  The  war  of  delay  suits 
only  a  land  of  rock  and  defile,  or  of  castle  and  breast- 
work. Thegns  and  warriors,  ye  have  no  castles  but 
your  breasts  of  mail.  Abandon  these,  and  you  are 
lost." 

A  general  murmur  of  applause  closed  this  speech  of 
Haco,  which,  while  wise  in  arguments  our  historians 
have  overlooked,  came  home  to  that  noblest  reason  of 
brave  men  which  urges  prompt  resistance  to  foul 
invasion. 

Up,  then,  rose  King  Harold. 

"  I  thank  you,  fellow-Englishmen,  for  that  applause 
with  which  ye  have  greeted  mine  own  thoughts  on  the 
lips  of  Haco.  Shall  it  be  said  that  your  king  rushed 
to  chase  his  own  brother  from  the  soil  of  outraged 
England,  yet  shrunk  from  the  sword  of  the  Norman 
stranger?  Well,  indeed,  might  my  brave  subjects 
desert  my  banner  if  it  floated  idly  over  these  palace 
walls,  while  the  armed  invader  pitched  his  camp  in 
the  heart  of  England.  By  delay,  William's  force, 
whatever  it  might  be,  cannot  grow  less;  his  cause  grows 
more  strong  in  our  craven  fears.  What  his  armament 
may  be,  Ave  rightly  know  not;  the  report  varies  with 
every  messenger,  swelling  and  lessening  with  the  rumors 
of  every  hour.  Have  we  not  around  us  now  our  most 
stalwart  veterans, —  the  flower  of  our  armies,  the  most 
eager  spirits,  the  vanquishers  of  Hardrada  ?  Thou  say- 
est,  Gurth,  that  all  should  not  be  perilled  on  a  single 
battle.  True.  Harold  should  be  perilled,  but  where- 
fore England  ?  Grant  that  we  win  the  day ;  the  quicker 
our  despatch,  the  greater  our  fame,  the  more  lasting  that 
peace   at   home   and  abroad,  which   rests   ever   its   best 


HAROLD.  249 

foundation  on  the  sense  of  the  power,  which  wrong  can- 
not provoke,  unchastised.  Grant  that  we  lose;  a  loss 
can  be  made  gain  by  a  king's  brave  death.  Why  should 
not  our  example  rouse  and  unite  all  who  survive  us? 
Which  the  nobler  example,  the  one  best  fitted  to  protect 
our  country, —  the  recreant  backs  of  living  chiefs,  or  the 
glorious  dead  with  their  fronts  to  the  foe  1  Come  what 
may,  life  or  death,  at  least  we  will  thin  the  Norman 
numbers,  and  heap  the  barriers  of  our  corpses  on  the 
Norman  march.  At  least,  we  can  show  to  the  rest  of 
England  how  men  should  defend  their  native  land! 
And  if,  as  I  believe  and  pray,  in  every  English  breast 
beats  a  heart  like  Harold's,  what  matters  though  a  king 
should  fall  1  —  Freedom  is  iiumortal. " 

He  spoke,  and  forth  from  his  baldric  he  drew  his 
sword.  Every  blade  at  that  signal  leaped  from  the  sheath ; 
and  in  that  council-hall  at  least,  in  every  breast  beat  the 
heart  of  Harold. 


250  HAROIJ). 


CHAPTER  III. 

The  chiefs  dispersed  to  array  their  troops  for  the 
morrow's  march ;  but  Harold  and  his  kinsmen  entered 
the  chamber  where  the  women  waited  the  decision  of 
the  council,  for  that,  in  truth,  was  to  them  the  parting 
interview.  The  king  had  resolved,  after  completing 
all  his  martial  preparations,  to  pass  the  night  in  the 
Abbey  of  Waltham;  and  his  brothers  lodged,  with  the 
troops  they  commanded,  in  the  city  or  its  suburbs. 
Haco  alone  remained  with  that  portion  of  the  army 
quartered  in  and  around  the  palace. 

They  entered  the  chamber,  and  in  a  moment  each 
heart  had  sought  its  mate;  in  the  mixed  assembly  each 
only  conscious  of  the  other.  There,  Gurth  bowed  his 
noble  head  over  the  weeping  face  of  the  young  bride 
that  for  the  last  time  nestled  to  his  bosom.  There, 
with  a  smiling  lip,  but  tremulous  voice,  the  gay  Leof- 
wine  soothed  and  chided  in  a  breath  the  maiden  he  had 
wooed  as  the  partner  for  a  life  that  his  mirthful  spirit 
made  one  holiday;  snatching  kisses  from  a  cheek  no 
longer  coy. 

But  cold  was  the  kiss  which  Harold  pressed  on  the 
brow  of  Aldyth ;  and  with  something  of  disdain,  and 
of  bitter  remembrance  of  a  nobler  love,  he  comforted 
a  terror  which  sprang  from  the  thought  of  self. 

"  Oh,  Harold!  "  sobbed  Aldyth,  "  be  not  rashly  brave: 
guard  thy  life  for  my  sake.  Without  thee,  what  am  I  ? 
Is  it  even  safe  for  me  to  rest  here  ?  Were  it  not  better 
to  fly  to  York,  or  seek  refuge  with  Malcolm  the  Scoti  " 


HAROLD.  251 

"  Within  tlirefi  days  at  the  farthest,"  answered  Harold, 
"  thy  brothers  will  be  in  London.  Abide  by  their 
counsel ;  act  as  they  advise  at  the  news  of  ray  victory 
or  my  fall." 

He  paused  abruptly,  for  he  heard  close  beside  him  the 
broken  voice  of  Garth's  bride,  in  answer  to  her  lord. 

"  Think  not  of  me,  beloved;  thy  whole  heart  now  be 
England's.  And  if  —  if — "  Her  voice  failed  a  mo- 
ment, but  resumed  proudly,  "why,  even  then  thy  wife 
is  safe,  for  she  survives  not  her  lord  and  her  land!" 

The  king  left  his  wife's  side,  and  kissed  his  brother's 
bride. 

"  Noble  heart!  "  he  said;  "  with  women  like  thee  for 
our  wives  and  mothers,  England  could  survive  the 
slaugliter  of  a  thousand  kings." 

He  turned,  and  knelt  to  Gfitha.  She  threw  her  arms 
over  his  broad  breast,  and  wept  bitterly. 

"  Say  —  say,  Harold,  that  I  have  not  reproached  thee 
for  Tostig's  death.  I  have  obeyed  the  last  commands 
of  Godwin  my  lord.  I  have  deemed  thee  ever  right  and 
just;  now  let  me  not  lose  thee,  too.  They  go  with  thee, 
all  my  surviving  sons,  save  the  exile  Wolnoth,  —  hira 
whom  now  I  shall  never  behold  again.  Oh,  Harold! 
let  not  mine  old  age  be  childless!  " 

"  Mother  —  dear,  dear  mother,  with  these  arms  round 
my  neck  I  take  new  life  and  new  heart.  No!  never 
hast  thou  reproached  me  for  my  brother's  death,  — 
never  for  aught  which  man's  first  duty  enjoined. 
Murmur  not  that  that  duty  commands  us  still.  We 
are  the  sons,  tlirough  thee,  of  royal  heroes;  through 
my  father,  of  Saxon  freemen.  Rejoice  that  thou  hast 
three  sons  left,  Avhose  arms  thou  mayest  pray  God  and 
his  saints  to  prosper,  and  over  whose  graves,  if  they 
fall,  thou  shalt  shed  no  tears  of  shame!" 


252  HAKOLD. 

Then  the  widow  of  King  Edward,  who  (the  crucifix 
clasped  in  her  hands)  had  listened  to  Harold  with  lips 
apart  and  marble  cheeks,  could  keep  down  no  longer  her 
human,  woman's  heart;  she  rushed  to  Harold  as  he  still 
knelt  to  Githa,  —  knelt  by  his  side,  and  clasped  him  in 
her  arms  with  despairing  fondness :  — 

"  0  brother,  brother,  whom  I  have  so  dearly  loved 
when  all  other  love  seemed  forbidden  me ;  —  when  he 
who  gave  me  a  throne  refused  me  his  heart;  when, 
looking  at  thy  fair  promise,  listening  to  thy  tender 
comfort;  when,  remembering  the  days  of  old,  in  which 
thou  wert  my  docile  pupil,  and  we  dreamed  bright 
dreams  together  of  happiness  and  fame  to  come;  Avhen, 
loving  thee,  methought  too  well,  too  much  as  weak 
mothers  may  love  a  mortal  son,  I  prayed  God  to  detach 
my  heart  from  earth;  — oh,  Harold!  now  forgive  me  all 
my  coldness.  I  shudder  at  thy  resolve.  I  dread  that 
thou  should  meet  this  man,  whom  an  oath  hath  bound 
thee  to  obey.  Nay,  frown  not,  —  I  bow  to  thy  will, 
my  brother  and  my  king.  I  know  that  thou  hast  chosen 
as  thy  conscience  sanctions,  as  thy  duty  ordains.  But 
come  back  —  oh,  come  back,  —  thou  who,  like  me" 
(her  voice  whispered),  "hast  sacrificed  the  household 
hearth  to  thy  country's  altars,  —  and  I  will  never  pray 
to  Heaven  to  love  thee  less,  —  my  brother,  0  my 
brother!" 

In  all  the  room  were  then  heard  but  the  low  sounds 
of  sobs  and  broken  exclamations.  All  clustered  to 
one  spot,  —  Leofwine  and  his  betrothed,  Gurth  and 
his  bride,  even  the  selfish  Aldyth,  ennobled  by  the 
contagion  of  the  sublime  emotion,  —  all  clustered  round 
Githa,  the  mother  of  the  three  guardians  of  the  fated 
land,  and  all  knelt  before  her  by  the  side  of  Harold. 
Suddenly  the  widowed  queen,  the  virgin  wife  of   the 


HAEOLD.  253 

last  heir  of  Cerdic,  rose,  and  holding  on  high  the 
sacred  rood  over  those  bended  heads,  said,  with  devout 
passion,  — 

"  0  Lord  of  hosts,  we  children  of  Doubt  and  Time, 
trembling  in  the  dark,  dare  not  take  to  ourselves  to 
question  thine  unerring  will.  Sorrow  and  death,  as 
joy  and  life,  are  at  the  breath  of  a  mercy  divine  and 
a  wisdom  all-seeing ;  and  out  of  the  hours  of  evil  thou 
drawest,  in  mystic  circle,  the  eternity  of  Good.  '  Thy 
will  be  done  on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven.'  If,  0  Dis- 
poser of  events,  our  human  prayers  are  not  adverse  to 
thy  prejudged  decrees,  protect  these  lives,  the  bulwarks 
of  our  homes  and  altars,  sons  whom  tlie  land  offers  as 
a  sacrifice.  May  thine  angel  turn  aside  the  blade,  — as 
of  old  from  the  heart  of  Isaac!  But  if,  0  Ruler  of 
Nations,  in  whose  sight  the  ages  are  as  moments,  and 
generations  but  as  sands  in  the  sea,  these  lives  are 
doomed,  may  the  death  expiate  their  sins,  and,  shrived 
on  the  battle-field,  absolve  and  receive  the  souls!" 


254  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

By  the  altar  of  the  abbey  cliurcli  of  Waltliam  that  night 
knelt  Edith  in  prayer  for  Harold. 

She  had  taken  up  her  abode  in  a  small  convent  of 
nuns  that  adjoined  the  more  famous  monastery  of  Wal- 
tham;  but  she  had  promised  Hilda  not  to  enter  on  the 
novitiate  until  the  birthday  of  Harold  had  passed.  She 
herself  had  no  longer  faith  in  the  omens  and  prophecies 
that  had  deceived  her  youth  and  darkened  her  life;  and, 
in  the  more  congenial  air  of  our  holy  Church,  the  spirit 
ever  so  chastened  grew  calm  and  resigned.  Biit  the 
tidings  of  the  Norman's  coming,  and  the  king's  victo- 
rious return  to  his  capital,  had  reached  even  that  still 
retreat;  and  love,  which  had  blended  itself  with  relig- 
ion, led  her  steps  to  that  lonely  altar.  And  suddenly, 
as  she  there  knelt,  only  lighted  by  the  moon  through 
the  high  casements,  she  was  startled  by  the  sound  of 
approaching  feet  and  murmuring  voices.  She  rose  in 
alarm:  the  door  of  the  church  was  thrown  open, — 
torches  advanced,  and  amongst  the  monks,  between 
Osgood  and  Ailred,  came  the  king.  He  had  come, 
that  last  night  before  his  march,  to  invoke  the  prayers 
of  that  pious  brotherhood;  and  by  the  altar  he  had 
founded,  to  pray  himself  that  his  one  sin  of  faith  for- 
feited and  oath  abjured  might  not  palsy  his  arm  and 
weigh  on  his  soul  in  the  hour  of  his  country's  need. 

Edith  stifled  the  cry  that  rose  to  her  lips,  as  the 
torches  fell  on  the  pale  and  hushed  and  melancholy 
face  of  Harold;  and  she  crept  away  under  the  arch  of 


HAROLD.  255 

the  vast  Saxon  columns,  and  into  the  shade  of  abutting 
walls.  The  monks  and  the  king,  intent  on  their  holy 
office,  beheld  not  that  solitary  and  shrinking  form. 
They  approached  the  altar;  and  there  the  king  knelt 
down  lowlily,  and  none  heard  the  prayer.  But  as 
Osgood  held  the  sacred  rood  over  the  bended  head  of 
the  royal  suppliant,  the  image  on  the  crucifix  (whicli 
had  been  a  gift  from  Aired  the  prelate,  and  was  sup- 
posed to  have  belonged  of  old  to  Augustine,  the  first 
founder  of  the  Saxon  Church,  —  so  that,  by  the  super- 
stition of  the  age,  it  was  invested  with  miraculous 
virtues)  bowed  itself  visibly.  Visibly  the  pale  and 
ghastly  image  of  the  suffering  God  bowed  over  the 
head  of  the  kneeling  man;  whether  the  fastenings  of 
the  rood  were  loosened,  or  from  what  cause  soever, — 
in  tlie  eyes  of  all  the  brotherhood  the  image  bowed. ^ 

A  thrill  of  terror  froze  every  heart,  save  Edith's,  too 
remote  to  perceive  the  portent,  and  save  the  king's, 
whom  the  omen  seemed  to  doom,  for  his  face  was  buried 
in  his  clasped  hands.  Heavy  was  his  heart,  nor  needed 
it  other  warnings  than  its  own  gloom. 

Long  and  silently  prayed  the  king;  and  when  at  last 
he  rose,  and  the  monks,  tliough  with  altered  and  tremu- 
lous voices,  began  their  closing  hymn,  Edith  passed 
noiselessly  along  the  wall;  and,  stealing  through  one 
of  the  smaller  doors  which  communicated  to  the  nun- 
nery annexed,  gained  the  solitude  of  her  own  chamber. 
There  she  stood,  benumbed  with  the  strength  of  her 
emotions  at  the  sight  of  Harold,  thus  abruptly  pre- 
sented. How  had  the  fond  human  heart  leaped  to 
meet  him!  Twice  thus,  in  the  august  ceremonials  ol 
religion,  secret,  shrinking,  unwitnessed,  had  she,  his 
betrothed,  —  she,    the    partner    of    his    soul,  —  stood 

^  Palgkave  :  "  Hist,  of  Anglo-Saxons." 


256  HAROLD. 

aloof  to  beliold  him.  She  had  seen  him  in  the  hour 
of  his  pomp,  the  crown  upon  his  brow,  —  seen  him  in 
the  hour  of  his  peril  and  agony,  that  anointed  head 
bowed  to  the  earth.  And  in  the  pomp  that  she  could 
not  share  she  had  exulted;  but,  oh,  now  —  now  —  oh 
now  that  she  could  have  knelt  beside  that  humbled 
form  and  prayed  with  that  voiceless  prayer ! 

The  torclies  flashed  in  the  court  below ;  the  church 
was  again  deserted ;  the  monks  passed  in  mute  proces- 
sion back  to  their  cloister;  but  a  single  man  paused, 
turned  aside,  and  stopped  at  the  gate  of  the  humbler 
convent:  a  knocking  was  heard  at  the  great  oaken  door, 
and  the  watch-dog  barked.  Edith  started,  pressed  her 
hand  on  her  heart,  and  trembled.  Steps  approached 
her  door, — and  the  abbess,  entering,  summoned  her 
below,  to  hear  the  farewell  greeting  of  her  cousin  the 
king. 

Harold  stood  in  the  simple  hall  of  the  cloister:  a 
single  taper,  tall  and  wan,  burned  on  the  oak  board. 
The  abbess  led  Edith  by  the  hand;  and,  at  a  sign  from 
the  king,  withdrew.  So,  once  more  upon  earth,  the 
betrothed  and  divided  were  alone. 

"  Edith,"  said  the  king,  in  a  voice  in  which  no  ear 
but  hers  could  have  detected  the  struggle,  "  do  not  think 
I  have  come  to  disturb  thy  holy  calm,  or  sinfully  revive 
the  memories  of  the  irrevocable  past:  where  once  on  my 
breast,  in  the  old  fashion  of  our  fathers,  I  wrote  thy 
name,  is  written  now  the  name  of  the  mistress  that 
supplants  thee.  Into  Eternity  melts  the  Past;  but  I 
could  not  depart  to  a  field  from  which  there  is  no  retreat 
—  in  which,  against  odds  that  men  say  are  fearful,  I 
have  resolved  to  set  my  crown  and  my  life  —  without 
once  more  beholding  thee,  pure  guardian  of  my  happier 
days!     Thy  forgiveness  for  all  the  sorrow  that,  in  the 


HAROLD.  257 

darkness  wliich  svirrounds  man's  hopes  and  dreams,  I 
have  brought  on  thee  (dread  return  for  love  so  endur- 
ing, so  generous  and  divine  !),  —  thy  forgiveness  I  will 
not  ask.  Thou  alone,  perhaps,  on  earth  knowest  the 
soul  of  Harold;  and  if  he  hath  wronged  thee,  thou  seest 
alike  in  the  wronger  and  the  wronged  but  the  children 
of  iron  Duty,  the  servants  of  imperial  Heaven.  Not 
thy  forgiveness  I  ask  —  but  —  but  —  Edith,  holy  maid! 
angel  soul !  —  thy  —  thy  blessing  !  "  His  voice  faltered, 
and  he  inclined  his  lofty  head  as  to  a  saint. 

"  Oh  that  I  had  the  power  to  bless  ! "  exclaimed 
Edith,  mastering  her  rush  of  tears  with  a  heroic  effort; 
"  and  methinks  I  have  the  power,  —  not  from  virtues  of 
my  own,  but  from  all  that  I  owe  to  thee  !  The  grateful 
have  the  power  to  bless.  For  what  do  I  not  owe  to 
thee,  — owe  to  that  very  love,  of  which  even  the  grief 
is  sacred?  Poor  child  in  the  house  of  the  heathen,  thy 
love  descended  upon  me,  and  in  it  the  smile  of  God ! 
In  that  love  my  spirit  awoke,  and  was  baptized:  every 
thought  that  has  risen  from  earth,  and  lost  itself  in 
heaven,  was  breathed  into  my  heart  by  thee !  Thy 
creature  and  thy  slave,  hadst  thou  tempted  me  to  sin, 
sin  had  seemed  hallowed  by  thy  voice ;  but  thou  saidst, 
'  True  love  is  virtue,'  and  so  I  worshipped  virtue  in 
loving  thee.  Strengthened,  purified  by  thy  bright 
companionship,  from  thee  came  the  strength  to  resign 
thee,  —  from  thee  the  refuge  under  the  wings  of  God, 
from  thee  the  firm  assurance  that  our  union  yet  shall 
be:  not  as  our  poor  Hilda  dreams,  on  the  perishable 
earth,  —  but  there !  oh,  there !  yonder,  by  the  celestial 
altars,  in  the  land  in  which  all  spirits  are  filled  with 
love.  Yes,  soul  of  Harold  !  there  are  might  and  holi- 
ness in  the  blessing  the  soul  thou  hast  redeemed  and 
reared  sheds  on  thee  !  " 

VOL.  II. — 17 


2o8  HAROLD. 

And  so  beautiful,  so  unlike  the  Beautiful  of  the 
common  earth,  looked  the  maid  as  she  thus  spoke,  and 
laid  hands,  trembling  with  no  hiiman  passion,  on  that 
royal  head,  —  that  could  a  soul  from  paradise  be  made 
visible,  such  might  be  the  shape  it  would  wear  to  a 
mortal's  eye !  Thus,  for  some  moments  both  were 
silent;  and  in  the  silence  the  gloom  vanished  from  the 
heart  of  Harold,  and,  through  a  deep  and  sublime 
serenity,   it  rose  undaunted  to  front  the  future. 

No  embrace  —  no  farewell  kiss  —  profaned  the  part- 
ing of  those  pure  and  noble  spirits,  parting  on  the 
threshold  of  the  grave.  It  was  only  the  spirit  that 
clasped  the  spirit,  looking  forth  from  the  clay  into 
measureless  eternity.  Not  till  the  air  of  night  came 
once  more  on  his  brow,  and  the  moonlight  rested  on 
the  roofs  and  fanes  of  the  land  intrusted  to  his  charge, 
was  the  man  once  more  the  human  hero;  not  till  she 
Avas  alone  in  her  desolate  chamber,  and  the  terrors  of 
the  coming  battle-field  chased  the  angel  from  her 
thoughts,  was  the  maid  inspired  once  more  the  weep- 
ing woman. 

A  little  after  sunrise,  the  abbess,  who  was  distantly 
akin  to  the  house  of  Godwin,  sought  Edith,  so  agitated 
by  her  own  fear  that  she  did  not  remark  the  trouble  of 
her  visitor.  The  supposed  miracle  of  the  sacred  image 
bowing  over  the  kneeling  king  had  spread  dismay 
through  the  cloisters  of  both  nunnery  and  abbey ;  and 
so  intense  was  the  disquietude  of  the  two  brothers, 
Osgood  and  Ailred,  in  the  simple  and  grateful  affec- 
tion they  bore  their  royal  benefactor,  that  they  had 
obeyed  the  impulse  of  their  tender,  credulous  hearts, 
and  left  the  monastery  with  the  dawn,  intending  to 
follow  the  king's  march, ^  and  watch  and  pray  near  the 
1  Palgrave  :  "  Hist,  of  Anglo-Saxons." 


HAEOLD.  259 

awful  battle-field.  Edith  listened,  and  made  no  reply; 
the  terrors  of  the  abbess  infected  her;  the  example  of 
the  two  monks  woke  the  sole  thought  which  stirred 
through  the  nightmare  dream  that  suspended  reason 
itself;  and  when,  at  noon,  the  abbess  again  sought  the 
chamber,  Edith  was  gone:  gone,  and  alone,  —  none 
knew  wherefore,  none  guessed  whither. 

All  the  pomp  of  the  English  army  burst  upon  Harold's 
view,  as,  in  tlie  rising  sun,  he  approached  the  bridge  of 
the  capital.  Over  that  bridge  came  the  stately  march, 
—  battle-axe  and  spear  and  banner  glittering  in  the  ray. 
And  as  he  drew  aside,  and  the  forces  defiled  before  him, 
the  cry  of  "  God  save  King  Harold !  "  rose  with  loud 
acclaim  and  lusty  joy,  borne  over  the  waves  of  the 
river,  startling  the  echoes  in  the  ruined  keep  of  the 
Eoman,  heard  in  the  halls  restored  by  Canute,  and 
chiming,  like  a  chorus,  with  the  chants  of  the  monks 
by  the  tomb  of  Sebba  in  St.  Paul's, — by  the  tomb  of 
Edward  at  St.   Peter's. 

With  a  brightened  face  and  a  kindling  eye  the  king 
saluted  his  lines,  and  then  fell  into  the  ranks  towards 
the  rear,  where,  among  the  burghers  of  London  and  the 
lithsmen  of  Middlesex,  the  immemorial  custom  of  Saxon 
monarchs  placed  the  kingly  banner.  And,  looking  up, 
he  beheld,  not  his  old  standard  with  the  Tiger  heads 
and  the  Cross,  but  a  banner  both  strange  and  gorgeous. 
On  a  field  of  gold  was  the  effigies  of  a  Fighting  War- 
rior; and  the  arms  were  bedecked  in  orient  pearls,  and 
the  borders  blazed  in  the  rising  sun  with  ruby,  amethyst, 
and  emerald.  While  he  gazed,  wondering,  on  this  daz- 
zling ensign,  Haco,  who  rode  beside  the  standard-bearer, 
advanced  and  gave  him  a  letter. 

"Last  night,"  said  he,  "after  thou  hadst  left  the 
palace,   many   recruits,   chiefly  from   Hertfordshire  and 


260  HAEOLD. 

Essex,  came  in ;  but  the  most  gallant  and  stalwart  of 
all,  in  arms  and  in  stature,  were  the  lithsmen  of  Hilda. 
With  them  came  this  banner,  on  which  she  has  lavished 
the  gems  that  have  passed  to  her  hand  through  long 
lines  of  northern  ancestors,  from  Odin,  the  founder  of 
all  northern  thrones.  So,  at  least,  said  the  bode  of  our 
kinswoman." 

Harold  had  already  cut  the  silk  round  the  letter,  and 
•was  reading  its  contents.     They  ran  thus :  — 

"  King  of  England,  I  forgive  thee  the  broken  heart  of  my 
grandchild.  They  whom  the  land  feeds  should  defend  the 
land.  I  send  to  thee,  in  tribute,  the  best  fruits  that  grow  in  the 
field  and  the  forest,  round  the  house  which  my  husband  took 
from  the  bounty  of  Canute,  —  stout  hearts  and  strong  hands ! 
Descending  alike,  as  do  Hilda  and  Harold  (through  Githa, 
thy  mother),  from  the  Warrior  God  of  the  North,  whose  race 
never  shall  fail,  —  take,  O  defender  of  the  Saxon  children  of 
Odin,  the  banner  I  have  broidered  with  the  gems  that  the 
Chief  of  the  Asas  bore  from  the  East.  Firm  as  love  be  thy 
foot,  strong  as  death  be  thy  hand,  under  the  shade  which  the 
banner  of  Hilda  —  under  the  gleam  which  the  jewels  of  Odin 
—  cast  on  the  brows  of  the  king !  So  Hilda,  the  daughter  of 
monarchs,  greets  Harold,  the  leader  of  men." 

Harold  looked  up  from  the  letter,  and  Haco  resumed :  — 
"  Thou  canst  guess  not  the  cheering  effect  which  this 
banner,  supposed  to  be  charmed,  and  which  the  name 
of  Odin  alone  would  suffice  to  make  holy,  at  least,  with 
thy  fierce  Anglo-Danes,  hath  already  produced  through 
the  army." 

"  It  is  well,  Haco,"  said  Harold,  with  a  smile.  "  Let 
priest  add  his  blessing  to  Hilda's  charm,  and  Heaven 
will  pardon  any  magic  that  makes  more  brave  the  hearts 
that  defend  its  altars.  Now  fall  we  back,  for  the  army 
must  pass  beside  the  hill  with  the  crommell  and  grave 


HAROLD.  261 

stone;  there,  be  sure,  Hilda  will  be  at  watch  for  our 
march,  and  we  will  linger  a  few  moments  to  thank  her 
somewhat  for  her  banner,  yet  more  justly,  methinks, 
for  her  men.  Are  not  yon  stout  fellows  all  in  mail,  so 
tall  and  so  orderly,  in  advance  of  the  London  burghers, 
Hilda's  aid  to  our  Fyrd?" 

"  They  are,"  answered  Haco. 

The  king  backed  his  steed  to  accost  them  with  his 
kingly  greeting;  and  then,  with  Haco,  falling  yet  far- 
ther to  the  rear,  seemed  engaged  in  inspecting  the 
numerous  wains,  bearing  missiles  and  forage,  that 
always  accompanied  the  march  of  a  Saxon  array,  and 
served  to  strengthen  its  encampment.  But  when  they 
came  in  sight  of  the  hillock  by  which  the  great  body 
of  the  army  had  preceded  them,  the  king  and  the  son 
of  Sweyn  dismounted,  and  on  foot  entered  the  large 
circle  of  the  Celtic  ruin. 

By  the  side  of  the  Teuton  altar  the}''  beheld  two 
forms,  both  perfectly  motionless :  but  one  was  extended 
on  the  ground,  as  in  sleep  or  in  death;  the  other  sat 
beside  it,  as  if  watching  the  corpse  or  guarding  the 
slumber.  The  face  of  the  last  was  not  visible,  propped 
upon  the  arms  which  rested  on  the  knees,  and  hidden 
by  the  hands.  But  in  the  face  of  the  other,  as  the  two 
men  drew  near,  they  recognized  the  Danish  prophetess. 
Death  in  its  dreadest  characters  was  written  on  that 
ghastly  face :  woe  and  terror,  beyond  all  words  to 
describe,  spoke  in  the  haggard  brow,  the  distorted 
lips,  and  the  wild  glazed  stare  of  the  open  eyes.  At 
the  startled  cry  of  the  intruders  on  that  dreary  silence, 
the  living  form  moved ;  and  though  still  leaning  its 
face  on  its  hands,  it  raised  its  head;  and  never  coun- 
tenance of  northern  vampire,  cowering  by  the  rifled 
grave,  was  more  fiend-like  and  appalling. 


2G2  HAUOLD. 

"Who  and  what  art  thou?"  said  the  king;  "and 
how,  thus  unhonored  in  the  air  of  heaven,  lies  the 
corpse  of  the  noble  Hilda  1  Is  this  the  hand  of  nature  1 
Haco,  Haco,  so  look  the  eyes,  so  set  the  features,  of 
those  whom  the  horror  of  ruthless  murder  slays  even 
before  the  steel  strikes.      Speak,  hag;  art  thou  dumb?  " 

"  Search  the  body,"  answered  the  witch,  "  there  is  no 
wound!  Look  to  the  throat,  —  no  mark  of  the  deadly 
gripe  f  I  have  seen  such  in  my  day.  There  are  none 
on  this  corpse,  I  trow;  yet  thou  sayest  rightly,  horror 
slew  her!  Ha,  ha!  she  would  know,  and  she  hath 
known;  she  would  raise  the  dead  and  the  demon, — 
she  hath  raised  them;  she  would  read  the  riddle,  —  she 
hath  read  it.  Pale  king  and  dark  youth,  would  ye  learn 
what  Hilda  saw,  eh?  eh?  Ask  her  in  the  Shadow- 
World  where  she  awaits  ye!  Ha!  ye  too  would  be 
wise  in  the  future;  ye  too  would  climb  to  heaven 
through  the  mysteries  of  hell.  Worms!  worms!  crawl 
back  to  the  clay, — to  the  earth!  One  such  night  as 
the  hag  ye  despise  enjoys  as  her  sport  and  her  glee 
would  freeze  your  veins  and  sear  the  life  in  your  eye- 
balls, and  leave  your  corpses  to  terror  and  wonder,  like 
the  carcass  that  lies  at  your  feet!" 

"Ho!"  cried  the  king,  stamping  his  foot, —  "hence, 
Haco;  rouse  the  household;  summon  hither  the  hand- 
maids; call  henchman  and  ceorl  to  guard  this  foul 
raven." 

Haco  obeyed;  but  when  he  returned  with  the  sluul- 
dering  and  amazed  attendants,  the  witch  was  gone,  and 
the  king  was  leaning  against  the  altar  with  downcast 
eyes,  and  a  face  troubled  and  dark  with  thought. 

The  body  of  the  Vala  was  borne  into  the  house ;  and 
the  king,  waking  from  his  reverie,  bade  them  send  for 
the   priests,    and   ordered   masses   for   the   parted   soul. 


HAROLD.  263 

Then  kneeling,  with  pious  hand  he  closed  the  eyes  and 
smoothed  the  features,  and  left  his  mournful  kiss  on 
the  icy  brow.  These  offices  fulfilled,  he  took  Haco's 
arm,  and,  leaning  on  it,  returned  to  the  spot  on  which 
they  had  left  their  steeds.  Not  evincing  surprise  or 
awe,  —  emotions  that  seemed  unknown  to  his  gloomy, 
settled,  impassible  nature, —  Haco  said  calmly,  as  they 
descended  the  knoll, — 

"  What  evil  did  the  hag  predict  to  thee  ?  " 

"  Haco, "  answered  the  king,  "  yonder,  by  the  shores 
of  Sussex,  lies  all  the  future  which  our  eyes  now  should 
scan  and  our  hearts  should  be  firm  to  meet.  These 
omens  and  apparitions  are  but  the  ghosts  of  a  dead 
Eeligion, —  spectres  sent  from  the  grave  of  the  fearful 
Heathenesse ;  they  may  appall  but  to  lure  us  from  our 
duty.  Lo,  as  we  gaze  around,  the  ruins  of  all  the 
creeds  that  have  made  the  hearts  of  men  quake  with 
unsubstantial  awe ;  lo,  the  temple  of  the  Briton  !  —  lo, 
the  fane  of  the  Koman !  —  lo,  the  mouldering  altar  of 
our  ancestral  Thor !  Ages  past  lie  wrecked  around  us 
in  these  shattered  symbols.  A  new  age  hath  risen,  and 
a  new  creed.  Keep  we  to  the  broad  trutlis  before  us; 
duty  here ;  knowledge  comes  alone  in  the  Hereafter. " 

"  That  Hereafter  !  —  is  it  not  near  ?  "  murmured  Haco. 

They  mounted  in  silence;  and,  ere  they  regained  the 
army,  paused,  by  a  common  impulse,  and  looked  behind. 
Awful  in  their  desolation  rose  the  temple  and  the  altar! 
And  in  Hilda's  mysterious  death  it  seemed  that  their 
last  and  lingering  Genius  —  the  Genius  of  the  dark  and 
fierce,  the  warlike  and  the  wizard  North  —  had  expired 
forever.  Yet  on  the  outskirt  of  the  forest,  dusk  and 
shapeless,  that  witch  without  a  name  stood  in  the 
shadow,  pointing  towards  them,  with  outstretched  arm, 
in  vague   and   denouncing   menace ;  —  as  if,   come  what 


264  HAROLD. 

may,  all  change  of  creed,  —  be  the  faith  ever  so  simple, 
the  truth  ever  so  bright  and  clear, —  there  is  a  super- 
stition native  to  that  Border-land  between  the  Visible 
and  the  Unseen,  which  will  find  its  priest  and  its  vota- 
ries, till  the  full  and  crowning  splendor  of  Heaven  shall 
melt  every  shadow  from  the  world  ! 


HAROLD.  265 


CHAPTER  V. 

On   the   broad   plain   between  Pevensey  and   Hastings 
Duke    William    had   arrayed   his   armaments.       In    the 
rear  he  had  built  a  castle  of  wood,   all  the   framework 
of  which  he  had  brought  with  him,   and  which  was  to 
serve  as  a  refuge  in  case  of  retreat.      His  ships  he  had 
run   into  deep  water  and  scuttled,   so  that  the  thought 
of  return  without   victory  might  be   banished  from  his 
miscellaneous    and   multitudinous   force.       His    outposts 
stretched  for  miles,  keeping  watch  night  and  day  agaitist 
surprise.      The  ground   chosen  was  adapted  for  all   the 
manoeuvres  of  a  cavalry  never  before  paralleled  in  Eng- 
land, nor  perhaps  in  the  world,  —  almost  every  horseman 
a  knight,  almost  every  knight  fit  to  be  a  chief.     And  on 
this  space  William  reviewed  his  army,  and  there  planned 
and  schemed,  rehearsed  and  reformed,  all  tlie  stratagems 
the  great  day  might  call  forth.     But  most   careful  and 
laborious   and    minute   was  he  in    the    manoeuvre    of   a 
feigned    retreat.     Not,    ere   the    acting  of  some   modern 
play,  does  the  anxious  manager  more  elaborately  marshal 
each  man,   each  look,   each  gesture,   that  are  to  form  a 
picture  on  which  the  curtain  shall  fall  amidst  deafening 
plaudits,  than  did  the  laborious  captain  appoint  each  man 
and  each  movement   in   his   lure  to  a  valiant  foe :    tlie 
attack  of  the  foot,  their  recoil,  their  affected  panic,  their 
broken  exclamations  of  despair ;  their  retreat,  first  partial 
and  reluctant,  next  seemingly  hurried   and  complete, — 
flying,  but  in  flight  care/ifZ/y  confused ;  —  then  the  settled 
watchword,  the  lightning  rally,  the  rush  of  the  cavalry 


266  HAROLD. 

from  the  ambusli;  the  sweep  and  hem  round  the  pur- 
suing foe,  the  detachment  of  levelled  spears  to  cut  off 
the  Saxon  return  to  the  main  force,  and  the  lost  ground, 
—  were  all  directed  by  the  most  consummate  master- 
ship in  the  stage-play  or  upokrlsis  of  war,  and  seized 
by  the  adroitness  of  practised  veterans. 

Not  now,  0  Harold!  hast  thou  to  contend  against 
the  rude  heroes  of  the  Norse,  with  their  ancestral 
strategy  unimproved!  The  Civilization  of  Battle  meets 
thee  now  !  and  all  the  craft  of  the  Eoman  guides  the 
manhood  of  the  North. 

It  was  in  the  midst  of  such  lessons  to  his  foot  and 
his  horsemen  —  spears  gleaming,  pennons  tossing,  lines 
re-forming,  steeds  backing,  wheeling,  flj'ing,  circling  — 
that  William's  eye  blazed,  and  his  deep  voice  thun- 
dered the  thrilling  word;  when  Mallet  de  Graville, 
wlio  was  in  command  at  one  of  the  outposts,  rode  up 
to  him  at  full  speed,  and  said  in  gasps,  as  he  drew 
breath, — 

"  King  Harold  and  his  army  are  advancing  furiously. 
Their  object  is  clearly  to  come  on  us  unawares." 

"Hold!"  said  the  duke,  lifting  his  hand;  and  the 
knights  around  him  halted  in  their  perfect  discipline; 
then,  after  a  few  brief  but  distinct  orders  to  Odo,  Fitz- 
osborne,  and  some  other  of  his  leading  chiefs,  he  headed 
a  numerous  cavalcade  of  his  knights,  and  rode  fast  to 
the  outpost  which  Mallet  had  left,  to  catch  sight  of 
the   coming  foe. 

The  horsemen  cleared  the  plain,  passed  through  a 
wood  mournfully  fading  into  autumnal  hues,  and,  on 
emerging,  they  saw  the  gleam  of  the  Saxon  spears  rising 
on  the  brows  of  the  gentle  hills  beyond.  But  even  the 
time,  short  as  it  was,  that  had  sufficed  to  bring  William 
in   view    of    the    enemy,    had    sufficed   also,    under    the 


HAROLD.  267 

orders  of  his  generals,  to  give  to  the  wide  plain  of  his 
encampment  all  the  order  of  a  host  prepared.  And 
William,  having  now  mounted  on  a  rising  ground, 
turned  from  the  spears  on  the  hill-tops  to  his  own  fast- 
forming  lines  on  the  plam,  and  said,  with  a  stern 
smile, — 

"  Methinks  the  Saxon  usurper,  if  he  he  among  those 
on  the  height  of  yon  hills,  will  vouchsafe  us  time  to 
hreathe.  St.  Michael  gives  his  crown  to  our  hands,  and 
his  corpse  to  the  crow,  if  he  dare  to  descend. " 

Arid  so,  indeed,  as  the  duke  with  a  soldier's  eye 
foresaw  from  a  soldier's  skill,  so  it  proved.  The  spears 
rested  on  the  summits.  It  soon  became  evident  that 
the  English  general  perceived  that  here  there  was  no 
Hardrada  to  surprise,  that  the  news  brought  to  his  ear 
had  exaggerated  neither  the  numbers,  nor  the  arms,  nor 
the  discipline  of  the  Norman,  and  that  the  battle  was 
not  to  the  bold,  but  to  the  wary. 

"  He  doth  right,"  said  William,  musingly;  "  nor  think, 
O  my  quens,  that  we  shall  find  a  fool's  hot  brain  under 
Harold's  helmet  of  iron.  How  is  this  broken  ground  of 
hillock  and  valley  named  in  our  chart?  It  is  strange 
that  we  should  have  overlooked  its  strength,  and  suff"ered 
it  thus  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  foe.  How  is  it 
named  1     Can  any  of  ye  remember  1  " 

"  A  Saxon  peasant, "  said  De  Graville,  "  told  me  that 
the  ground  was  called  Senlac,^  or  Sanglac,  or  some  such 
name,  in  their  musicless  jargon." 

"  Gramercy  !  "  quoth  Grantmesnil,  "  methinks  the 
name  will  be  familiar  eno'  hereafter;  no  jargon  seemeth 
the  sound  to  my  ear:  a  significant  name,  and  ominous, — ■ 
Sanglac,  Sanguelac,  the  Lake  of  Blood. " 

1  The  battle-field  of  Hastings  seems  to  have  been  called  Seulac 
before  the  Conquest,  —  Sanguelac  after  it. 


268  HAROLD. 

"  Sanguelac !  "  said  the  duke,  startled :  "  where  have 
I  heard  that  name  hefore  1  it  must  have  been  between 
sleeping  and  waking, —  Sanguelac,  Sanguelac!  —  truly 
sayest  thou,  through  a  lake  of  blood  we  must  wade 
indeed!" 

"  Yet, "  said  De  Graville,  "  thine  astrologer  foretold 
that  thou  wouldst  win  the  realm  without  a  battle." 

"  Poor  astrologer !  "  said  William,  "  the  ship  he 
sailed  in  was  lost.  Ass  indeed  is  he  who  pretends  to 
warn  others,  nor  sees  an  inch  before  his  eyes  what  his 
own  fate  will  be!  Battle  shall  we  have,  but  not  yet. 
Hark  thee,  Guillaume,  thou  hast  been  guest  with  this 
usurper;  thou  hast  seemed  to  me  to  have  some  love 
for  him,  —  a  love  natural,  since  thou  didst  once  fight  by 
his  side :  wilt  thou  go  from  me  to  the  Saxon  host  with 
Hugues  Maigrot  the  monk,  and  back  the  message  I  shall 
send  1  " 

The  proud  and  punctilious  Norman  thrice  crossed 
himself  ere  he  answered, — 

"  There  was  a  time.  Count  William,  when  I  should 
have  deemed  it  honor  to  hold  parle  with  Harold  the 
brave  earl ;  but  now,  with  the  crown  on  his  head,  I  hold 
it  shame  and  disgrace  to  barter  words  with  a  knight 
unleal  and  a  man  forsworn." 

"  Nathless,  thou  shalt  do  me  this  favor, "  said 
William ;  "  for "  (and  he  took  the  knight  somewhat 
aside)  "  I  cannot  disguise  from  thee  that  I  look  anxiously 
on  the  chance  of  battle.  Yon  men  are  flushed  with  new 
triumph  over  the  greatest  warrior  Norway  ever  knew ; 
they  will  fight  on  their  own  soil,  and  under  a  chief 
whom  I  have  studied  and  read  with  more  care  than  the 
Comments  of  CiEsar,  and  in  whom  the  guilt  of  perjury 
cannot  blind  me  to  the  wit  of  a  great  general.  If  we 
can  yet  get    our  end  without  battle,  large   shall  be  my 


HAROLD.  269 

tlianks  to  thee,   and  I  will  hold  thine  astrologer  a  man 
wise,   though  unhappy." 

"  Cartes, "  said  De  Graville,  gravely,  "  it  were  dis- 
courteous to  the  memory  of  the  star-seer  not  to  make 
some  effort  to  prove  his  science  a  just  one.  And  the 
Chaldeans  —  " 

"  Plague  seize  the  Chaldeans !  "  muttered  the  duke. 
"  Eide  with  me  hack  to  the  camp,  that  I  may  give  thee 
my  message,  and  instruct  also  the  monk." 

"De  G-raville, "  resumed  the  duke,  as  they  rode 
towards  the  lines,  "  my  meaning  is  briefly  this.  I  do 
not  think  that  Harold  will  accept  my  offers  and  resign 
his  crown,  but  I  design  to  spread  dismay,  and  perhaps 
revolt,  amongst  his  captains;  I  wish  that  they  may 
know  that  the  Church  lays  its  curse  on  those  who  fight 
against  my  consecrated  banner,  I  do  not  ask  thee,  there- 
fore, to  demean  thy  knighthood  by  seeking  to  cajole  the 
usurper,  —  no,  but  rather  boldly  to  denounce  his  perjury, 
and  startle  his  liegemen.  Perchance  they  may  compel 
him  to  terms,  —  perchance  they  may  desert  his  banner ; 
at  the  Avorst  they  shall  be  daunted  with  full  sense  of  the 
guilt  of  his  cause. " 

"  Ha,  now  I  comprehend  thee,  noble  count ;  and 
trust  me  I  will  speak  as  Norman  and  knight  should 
speak." 

Meanwhile  Harold,  seeing  the  utter  hopelessness  of 
all  sudden  assault,  had  seized  a  general's  advantage  of 
the  ground  he  had  gained.  Occupying  the  line  of  hills, 
he  began  forthwith  to  intrench  himself  behind  deep 
ditches  and  artful  palisades.  It  is  impossible  now  to 
stand  on  that  spot  without  recognizing  the  military  skill 
with  which  the  Saxon  had  taken  his  post  and  formed  his 
precautions.  He  surrounded  the  main  body  of  his  troops 
with  a  perfect  breastwork  against  the  charge  of  the  horse. 


270  HAROLD. 

Stakes  and  strong  hurdles,  interwoven  with  osier  plaits, 
and  protected  by  deep  dykes,  served  at  once  to  neutralize 
the  effect  of  that  arm  in  which  William  was  most  power- 
ful, and  in  which  Harold  almost  entirely  failed;  while 
the  possession  of  the  ground  must  compel  the  foe  to 
march  and  to  charge  up  hill,  against  all  the  missiles  which 
the  Saxons  could  pour  down  from  their  intrenchments. 

Aiding,  animating,  cheering,  directing  all,  while  the 
dykes  were  fast  hollowed  and  the  breastworks  fast  rose, 
the  King  of  England  rode  his  palfrey  from  line  to  line 
and  work  to  work,  when,  looking  up,  he  saw  Haco 
leading  towards  him,  up  the  slopes,  a  monk,  and  a 
warrior  whom,  by  the  banderol  on  his  spear  and  the 
cross  on  his  shield,  he  knew  to  be  one  of  the  Norman 
knighthood. 

At  that  moment  Gurth  and  Leofwine,  and  those 
thegns  who  commanded  counties,  were  thronging  round 
their  chief  for  instructions.  The  king  dismounted,  and, 
beckoning  them  to  follow,  strode  towards  the  spot  on 
which  had  just  been  planted  his  royal  standard.  There 
halting,  he  said  with  a  grave  smile,  — 

"  I  perceive  that  the  Norman  count  hath  sent  us  his 
bodes;  it  is  meet  that  with  me,  you,  the  defenders  of 
England,  should  hear  what  the  Norman  saith. " 

"  If  he  saith  aught  but  prayer  for  his  men  to  return  to 
Rouen,  needless  his  message,  and  short  our  answer,"  said 
Vebba,  the  bluff  thegn  of  Kent. 

Meanwhile  the  monk  and  the  Norman  knight  drew 
near,  and  paused  at  some  short  distance,  while  Haco, 
advancing,    said  briefly,  — 

"  These  men  I  found  at  our  outposts;  they  demand  to 
speak  with  the  king." 

"  Under  his  standard  the  king  will  hear  the  Norman 
invader,"  replied  Harold;  "  bid  them  speak." 


HAROLD.  271 

The  same  sallow,  mournful,  ominous  countenance, 
which  Harold  had  before  seen  in  the  halls  of  West- 
minster, rising  deathlike  above  the  serge  garb  of  the 
Benedict  of  Caen,  now  presented  itself,  and  the  monk 
thus  spoke : — 

"  In  the  name  of  William,  duke  of  the, Normans  in  the 
field,  count  of  Rouen  in  the  hall,  claimant  of  all  the 
realms  of  Anglia,  Scotland,  and  the  Walloons,  held  under 
Edward  his  cousin,  I  come  to  thee,  Harold,  his  liege  and 
earl." 

"  Cliange  thy  titles,  or  depart, "  said  Harold,  fiercely, 
his  brow  no  longer  mild  in  its  majesty,  but  dark  as 
midnight.  "  What  says  William,  the  count  of  the 
foreigners,  to  Harold,  king  of  the  Angles  and  Basileus 
of  Britain  1  " 

"  Protesting  against  thy  assumption,  I  answer  thee 
thus, "  said  Hugues  Maigrot.  "  First,  again  he  offers  thee 
all  jSTorthumbria,  up  to  the  realm  of  the  Scottish  suWcing, 
if  thou  wilt  fulfil  thy  vow  and  cede  him  the  crown. " 

"  Already  have  I  answered,  —  the  crown  is  not  mine 
to  give;  and  my  people  stand  round  me  in  arms  to  de- 
fend the  king  of  their  choice.      What  next  1  " 

"  Next  offers  William  to  withdraw  his  troops  from  the 
land,  if  thou  and  thy  council  and  chiefs  will  submit  to 
the  arbitrament  of  our  most  holy  Pontiff,  Alexander  the 
Second,  and  abide  by  his  decision  whether  thou  or  my 
liege  have  the  best  right  to  the  throne." 

"  This,  as  churchman, "  said  the  abbot  of  the  great 
convent  of  Peterborough  (who,  with  the  abbot  of  Hide, 
had  joined  the  march  of  Harold,  deeming  as  one  the 
cause  of  altar  and  throne)  — "  this,  as  churchman,  may 
/  take  leave  to  answer.  Never  yet  hath  it  been  heard  in 
England  that  the  spiritual  suzerain  of  Rome  should  give 
us  our  kings. " 


272  HAKOLD. 

"  And,"  said  Harold,  with  a  bitter  smile,  "  the  Pope 
hath  already  summoned  me  to  this  trial,  as  if  the  laws 
of  England  were  kept  in  the  rolls  of  the  Vatican! 
Already,  if  rightly  informed,  the  Pope  hath  been 
pleased  to  decide  that  our  Saxon  land  is  the  Norman's. 
I  reject  a  judge  witliout  a  right  to  decide;  and  I  mock 
at  a  sentence  that  profanes  Heaven  in  its  insult  to  men. 
Is  this  all  ?  " 

"  One  last  offer  yet  remains, "  replied  the  monk, 
sternly.  "  This  knight  shall  deliver  its  import.  But 
ere  I  depart,  and  thou  and  thine  are  rendered  up  to 
Vengeance  Divine,  I  speak  the  word  of  a  mightier 
chief  than  William  of  Rouen.  Thus  saith  his  holiness, 
with  whom  rests  the  power  to  bind  and  to  loose,  to 
bless  and  to  curse :  '  Harold  the  Perjurer,  thou  art 
accursed !  On  thee,  and  on  all  who  lift  hand  in  thy 
cause,  rests  the  interdict  of  the  Church.  Thou  art 
excommunicated  from  the  family  of  Christ.  On  thy 
land,  with  its  peers  and  its  people,  —  yea,  to  the  beast  in 
the  field  and  the  bird  in  the  air,  to  the  seed  as  the 
sower,  the  harvest  as  the  reaper,  —  rests  God's  anathema ! 
The  bull  of  the  Vatican  is  in  the  tent  of  the  Norman ; 
the  gonfanon  of  St.  Peter  hallows  you  armies  to  the 
service  of  Heaven.  March  on,  then :  ye  march  as  the 
Assyrian;  and  the  angel  of  the  Lord  awaits  ye  on 
the  way.'  " 

At  these  words,  which  for  the  first  time  apprised  the 
English  leaders  that  their  king  and  kingdom  were  under 
the  awful  ban  of  excommunication,  the  thegns  and  abbots 
gazed  on  each  other  aghast.  A  visible  shudder  passed 
over  the  whole  warlike  conclave,  save  only  three,  Harold, 
and  Gurth,  and  Haco. 

The  king  himself  was  so  moved  by  indignation  at  the 
insolence   of    the    monk,    and    by   scorn  at    the  fulmen, 


HAROLD.  273 

which,  resting  not  alone  on  his  own  head,  presumed  to 
hlast  the  liberties  of  a  nation,  that  he  strode  towards 
the  speaker,  and  it  is  even  said  of  him  by  the  IvTorman 
chroniclers  that  he  raised  his  hand  as  if  to  strike  the 
denouncer  to  the  earth. 

But  Gurth  interposed,  and  with  his  clear  eye  serenely 
shining  with  virtuous  passion,  he  stood  betwixt  monk 
and  king. 

"  0  thou, "  he  exclaimed,  "  with  the  words  of  religion 
on  thy  lips,  and  the  devices  of  fraud  in  thy  heart,  hide 
thy  front  in  thy  cowl,  and  slink  back  to  thy  master. 
Heard  ye  not,  thegns  and  abbots,  heard  ye  not  this 
bad,  false  man  offer,  as  if  for  peace,  and  as  with  the 
desire  of  justice,  that  the  pope  should  arbitrate  between 
your  king  and  the  Norman  1  yet  all  the  while  the 
monk  knew  that  the  pope  had  already  predetermined 
the  cause;  and  had  ye  fallen  into  the  wile,  ye  would 
but  have  cowered  under  the  verdict  of  a  judgment 
that  has  presumed,  even  before  it  invoked  ye  to 
the  trial,  to  dispose  of  a  free  people  and  an  ancient 
kingdom !  " 

"  It  is  true,  it  is  true, "  cried  the  thegns,  rallying  from 
their  first  superstitious  terror,  and,  with  their  plain 
English  sense  of  justice,  revolted  at  the  perfidy  which 
the  priest's  overtures  had  concealed.  "  We  will  hear  no 
more ;  away  with  the  Swikebode. "  ^ 

The  pale  cheek  of  the  monk  turned  yet  paler;  he 
seemed  abashed  by  the  storm  of  resentment  he  had 
provoked ;  and  in  some  fear,  perhaps,  at  the  dark  faces 
bent  on  him,  he  slunk  behind  his  comrade  the  kniglit, 
who  as  yet  had  said  nothing,  but,  his  face  concealed  by 
his  helmet,  stood  motionless  like  a  steel  statue.  And, 
in  fact,  these  tAvo  ambassadors  —  the  one  in  his  monk 

1  Traitor  messenger. 

VOL.  II.  — 18 


274  HAROLD. 

garb,  the  other  in  his  iron  array  —  were  types  and  repre- 
sentatives of  the  two  forces  now  brought  to  bear  upon 
Harold  and  England, —  Chivalry  and  the  Church. 

At  the  momentary  discomfiture  of  the  priest,  now 
stood  forth  the  warrior ;  and  throwing  back  his  helmet, 
so  that  the  whole  steel  cap  rested  on  the  nape  of  the 
neck,  leaving  the  hauglity  face  and  half-shaven  head 
bare,  Mallet  de  Graville  thus  spoke :  — 

"  The  ban  of  the  Church  is  against  ye,  warriors  and 
chiefs  of  England,  but  for  the  crime  of  one  man! 
Remove  it  from  yourselves:  on  his  single  head  be  the 
curse  and  the  consequence.  Harold,  called  King  of 
England,  failing  the  two  milder  offers  of  my  comrade, 
thus  saith  from  the  lips  of  his  knight  (once  thy  guest, 
thy  admirer,  and  friend),  thus  saith  William  the  Nor- 
man :  —  '  Though  sixty  thousand  warriors  under  the 
banner  of  the  Apostle  wait  at  his  beck  (and  from  what 
I  see  of  thy  force,  thou  canst  marshal  to  thy  guilty  side 
scarce  a  third  of  the  number),  yet  will  Count  William 
lay  aside  all  advantage,  save  what  dwells  in  strong  arm 
and  good  cause;  and  here,  in  presence  of  thy  thegns, 
I  challenge  thee  in  his  name  to  decide  the  sway  of  this 
realm  by  single  battle.  On  horse  and  in  mail,  with 
sword  and  with  spear,  knight  to  knight,  man  to  man, 
wilt  thou  meet  William  the  Norman  1  '  " 

Before  Harold  could  reply,  and  listen  to  the  first 
impulse  of  a  valor,  which  his  worst  Norman  maligner, 
in  the  after-day  of  triumphant  calumny,  never  so  lied 
as  to  impugn,  the  thegns  themselves,  almost  with  one 
voice,   took  tip  the  reply. 

"  No  strife  between  a  man  and  a  man  shall  decide 
the  liberties  of  thousands !  " 

"  Never ! "  exclaimed  Gurth.  "  It  were  an  insult 
to  the  whole  people  to  regard  this  as  a  strife  between 


HAKOLD.  275 

two  chiefs,  wliich  should  wear  a  crown.  When  the 
invader  is  in  our  land,  the  war  is  with  a  nation,  not  a 
king.  And,  by  the  very  offer,  this  Norman  count 
(who  cannot  even  speak  our  tongue)  shows  how  little 
he  knows  of  the  laws  by  which,  under  our  native 
kings,  we  have  all  as  great  an  interest  as  a  king  himself 
in  our  fatherland." 

"  Thou  hast  heard  the  answer  of  England  from  those 
lips.  Sire  de  G-raville, "  said  Harold ;  "  mine  but  repeat 
and  sanction  it.  I  will  not  give  the  crown  to  William 
in  lieu  for  disgrace  and  an  earldom.  I  will  not  abide 
by  the  arbitrament  of  a  pope  who  has  dared  to  affix  a 
curse  upon  freedom.  I  will  not  so  violate  the  principle 
which  in  these  realms  knits  king  and  people  as  to  arrogate 
to  my  single  arm  the  right  to  dispose  of  the  birthright 
of  the  living,  and  their  races  unborn ;  nor  will  I  deprive 
the  meanest  soldier  under  my  banner  of  the  joy  and  the 
glory  to  fight  for  his  native  land.  If  William  seek  me, 
he  shall  find  me  where  war  is  the  fiercest,  where  the 
corpses  of  his  men  lie  the  thickest  on  the  plains,  defend- 
ing this  standard  or  rushing  on  his  own.  And  so, 
not  monk  and  pope,  but  God  in  his  wisdom,  adjudge 
between  us !  " 

"  So  be  it !  "  said  Mallet  de  Graville,  solemnly,  and 
his  helmet  reclosed  over  his  face.  "  Look  to  it,  recreant 
knight,  perjured  Christian,  and  usurping  king!  The 
bones  of  the  dead  fight  against  thee." 

"  And  the  fleshless  hands  of  the  saints  marshal  the 
hosts  of  the  living, "  said  the  monk. 

And  so  the  messengers  turned,  without  obeisance  or 
salute,   and  strode  silently  away. 


276  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  rest  of  that  day  and  the  whole  of  the  next  were 
consumed  by  both  armaments  in  the  completion  of 
their  preparations. 

William  was  willing  to  delay  the  engagement  as 
long  as  he  could;  for  he  was  not  without  hope  that 
Harold  might  abandon  his  formidable  position  and 
become  the  assailing  party;  and,  moreover,  he  wished 
to  have  full  time  for  his  prelates  and  priests  to  inflame 
to  the  utmost,  by  their  representations  of  William's 
moderation  in  his  embassy  and  Harold's  presumptuous 
guilt  in  rejection,  the  fiery  fanaticism  of  all  enlisted 
under  the  gonfanon  of  the  Church. 

On  the  other  hand,  every  delay  was  of  advantage  to 
Harold,  in  giving  him  leisure  to  render  his  intrench- 
ments  yet  more  eifectual,  and  to  allow  time  for  such 
reinforcements  as  his  orders  had  enjoined  or  the  pa- 
triotism of  the  country  might  arouse;  but,  alas!  those 
reinforcements  were  scanty  and  insignificant:  a  few 
stragglers  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  arrived,  but 
no  aid  came  from  London,  no  indignant  country  poured 
forth  a  swarming  population.  In  fact,  the  very  fame 
of  Harold,  and  the  good  fortune  that  had  hitherto 
attended  his  arms,  contributed  to  the  stupid  lethargy 
of  tlie  people.  That  he  who  had  just  subdued  the 
terrible  Norsemen,  with  the  mighty  Hardrada  at  their 
head,  should  succumb  to  those  dainty  "  rrenchraen, " 
as  they  chose  to  call  the  Normans,  —  of  whom,  in  their 
insular  ignorance  of  the  Continent,  they  knew  but  little, 


HAROLD.  277 

and  whom  they  had  seen  flying  in  all  directions  at  the 
return  of  Godwin, —  was  a  preposterous  demand  on  the 
imagination. 

^STor  was  this  all :  in  London  there  had  already  formed 
a  cabal  in  favor  of  the  Atheling.  The  claims  of  birth 
can  never  be  so  wholly  set  aside  but  what,  even  for  the 
most  unworthy  heir  of  an  ancient  line,  some  adherents 
will  be  found.  The  prudent  traders  thought  it  best  not 
to  engage  actively  on  behalf  of  the  reigning  king  in  his 
present  combat  with  the  ISTorman  pretender;  a  large 
number  of  would-be  statesmen  thought  it  best  for  the 
country  to  remain  for  the  present  neutral.  Grant  tlie 
worst,  —  grant  that  Harold  were  defeated  or  slain,  — 
would  it  not  be  wise  to  reserve  their  strength  to  support 
the  Atheling  1  William  might  have  some  personal  cause 
of  quarrel  against  Harold,  but  he  could  have  none  against 
Edgar;  he  might  depose  the  son  of  Godwin,  but  could 
he  dare  to  depose  the  descendant  of  Cerdic,  the  natural 
heir  of  Edward  1  There  is  reason  to  tliink  that  Stigand 
and  a  large  party  of  the  Saxon  churchmen  headed  this 
faction. 

But  the  main  causes  for  defection  were  not  in  adher- 
ence to  one  chief  or  to  another.  They  were  to  be  found 
in  selfish  inertness,  in  stubborn  conceit,  in  the  long 
peace,  and  the  enervate  superstition  which  had  relaxed 
the  sinews  of  the  old  Saxon  manhood;  in  that  indif- 
ference to  things  ancient  which  contempt  for  old  names 
and  races  engendered;  that  timorous  spirit  of  calcula- 
tion which  the  over-regard  for  wealth  had  fostered, 
Avhicli  made  men  averse  to  leave  trade  and  farm  for  the 
perils  of  the  field,  and  jeopardize  their  possessions  if  the 
foreigner  should  prevail. 

Accustomed  already  to  kings  of  a  foreign  race,  and 
having  fared  well  under  Canute,  there  were  many  who 


278  HAROLD. 

said,  "  What  matters  who  sits  on  the  throne  1  the  Icing 
must  be  equally  bound  by  our  laws."  Then,  too,  was 
heard  the  favorite  argument  of  all  slothful  minds: 
"  Time  enough  yet ;  one  battle  lost  is  not  England  won. 
Marry,  we  shall  turn  out  fast  eno'  if  Harold  be  beaten." 
Add  to  all  these  causes  for  apathy  and  desertion  the 
haughty  jealousies  of  tlie  several  populations  not  yet 
wholly  fused  into  one  empire.  The  Northumi)rian 
Danes,  untaught  even  by  their  recent  escape  from  the 
Norwegian,  regarded  with  ungrateful  coldness  a  war 
limited  at  present  to  the  southern  coasts;  and  the 
vast  territory  under  Mercia  was,  with  more  excuse, 
equally  supine ;  while  their  two  young  earls,  too  new 
in  their  command  to  have  much  sway  with  their  suliject 
populations  had  they  been  in  their  capitals,  had  now 
arrived  in  London;  and  there  lingered,  making  head, 
doubtless,  against  the  intrigues  in  favor  of  the  Atheling : 

—  so  little  had  Harold's  marriage  with  Aldyth  brought 
him,  at  the  hour  of  his  dreadest  need,  the  power  for 
which  happiness  had  been  resigned! 

Nor  must  we  put  out  of  account,  in  summing  the 
causes  which  at  this  awful  crisis  weakened  the  arm  of 
England,  the  curse  of  slavery  amongst  the  theowes, 
which  left  the  lowest  part  of  the  population  wholly 
"without  interest  in   the  defence  of  the   land.     Too  late 

—  too  late  for  all  but  unavailable  slaughter,  the  spirit 
of  the  country  rose  amidst  the  violated  pledges,  but 
imder  the  iron  heel  of  the  Norman  master !  Had  that 
spirit  put  forth  all  its  might  for  one  day  with  Harold, 
where  had  been  the  centuries  of  bondage  !  Oh,  shame 
to  the  absent!  All  blessed  those  present!  There  was 
no  hope  for  England  out  of  the  scanty  lines  of  the  im- 
mortal army  encamped  on  the  field  of  Hastings.  There, 
long  on  earth,  and  vain  vaunts  of  poor   pride,  shall  be 


HAROLD.  279 

kept  the  roll  of  tlie  robber  invaders.  In  what  roll  are 
your  names,  holy  heroes  of  the  soil?  Yes,  may  the 
prayer  of  the  virgin  queen  be  registered  on  high ;  and, 
assoiled  of  all  sin,  O  ghosts  of  the  glorious  dead,  may 
ye  rise  from  your  graves  at  the  trump  of  the  angel ;  and 
your  names,  lost  on  earth,  shine  radiant  and  stainless 
amidst  the  hierarchy  of  heaven  ! 

Dull  came  the  shades  of  evening,  and  pale  through  the 
rolling  clouds  glimmered  the  rising  stars,  when  —  all  pre- 
pared, all  arrayed  —  Harold  sat  with  Haco  and  Gurth 
in  his  tent;  and  before  them  stood  a  man,  half  French 
by  origin,  who  had  just  returned  from  the  Norman 
camp. 

"  So  thou  didst  mingle  with  the  men  undiscovered  1  " 
said  the  king. 

"  No,  not  undiscovered,  my  lord.  I  fell  in  with  a 
knicht,  whose  name  I  have  since  heard  as  that  of  Mallet 
de  Graville,  who  wilily  seemed  to  believe  in  what  I 
stated,  and  who  gave  me  meat  and  drink,  with  debonair 
courtesy.  Then  said  he  abruptly,  '  Spy  from  Harold, 
thou  hast  come  to  see  the  strength  of  the  Norman. 
Thou  shalt  have  thy  will,  —  follow  me.'  Therewith  he 
led  me,  all  startled,  I  own,  through  the  lines;  and,  O 
king,  I  should  deem  them  indeed  countless  as  the  sands, 
and  resistless  as  the  waves,  but  that,  strange  as  it  may 
seem  to  thee,  I  saw  more  monks  than  warriors." 

"  How!   thou  jestest!  "  said  Gurth  surprised. 

"  No ;  for,  thousands  by  thousands,  they  were  praying 
and  kneeling ;  and  their  heads  were  all  shaven  with  the 
tonsure  of  priests. " 

"  Priests  are  they  not, "  cried  Harold,  with  his  calm 
smile,  "  but  doughty  warriors  and  dauntless  knights. " 

Then  he  continued  his  questions  to  the  spy ;  and  his 
smile  vanished  at  the  accounts,  not  only  of  the  numbers 


280  HAROLD. 

of  the  force,  but  their  vast  provision  of  missiles,  and  the 
ahnost  incredible  proportion  of  their  cavalry. 

As  soon  as  the  spy  had  been  dismissed,  the  king  turned 
to  his  kinsmen. 

"What  think  you?"  he  said;  "shall  we  judge  our- 
selves of  the  foe  1  Tlie  night  will  be  dark  anon ;  our 
steeds  are  fleet,  —  and  not  shod  with  iron  like  the  Nor- 
mans ;  the  sward  noiseless,  —  what  think  you  ?  " 

"  A  merry  conceit, "  cried  the  blithe  Leofwine.  "  I 
should  like  much  to  see  the  boar  in  his  den,  ere  he 
taste  of  my  spear-point." 

"  And  I,"  said  Gurth,  "  do  feel  so  restless  a  fever  in 
my  veins,  that  I  would  fain  cool  it  by  the  night  air. 
Let  us  go :  I  know  all  the  ways  of  the  country ;  for 
hither  have  I  come  often  with  hawk  and  hound.  But 
let  us  wait  yet  till  the  night  is  more  hushed  and  deep." 

The  clouds  had  gathered  over  the  whole  surface  of 
the  skies,  and  there  hung  sullen ;  and  the  mists  were 
cold  and  gray  on  the  lower  grounds,  when  the  four 
Saxon  chiefs  set  forth  on  their  secret  and  perilous 
enterprise. 

"  Knights  and  riders  took  they  none. 
Squires  and  varlets  ol'  foot  not  one; 
All  unarmed  of  weapon  and  weed, 
Save  the  shield,  and  spear,  and  the  sword  at  need."  ^ 

Passing  their  own  sentinels,  they  entered  a  Avood, 
Gurth  leading  the  way,  and  catching  glimpses,  through 
the  irregular  path,  of  the  blazing  lights,  that  shone  red 
over  the  pause  of  the  Norman  war. 

1  "  Ne  nieineut  od  els  chevalier, 
Varlet  a  pie  ue  eskuier 
Ne  nul  d'els  u'a  amies  portee, 
Forz  sol  escu,  lauce,  et  espee." 

"  Roniau  de  llou,"  Second  Part,  v.  12,  126. 


HAROLD.  281 

William  had  moved  on  his  army  t-o  within  about 
two  miles  from  the  farthest  outposts  of  the  Saxon,  and 
contracted  his  lines  into  compact  space;  the  reconnoit- 
erers  were  thus  enabled,  by  the  light  of  the  links  and 
watchfires,  to  form  no  inaccurate  notion  of  the  formid- 
able foe  whom  the  morrow  was  to  meet.  The  ground  ^ 
on  which  they  stood  was  high,  and  in  the  deep  shadow 
of  the  wood;  with  one  of  the  large  dykes  common  to 
the  Saxon  boundaries  in  front,  so  that,  even  if  discov- 
ered, a  barrier  not  easily  passed  lay  between  them  and 
the  foe. 

In  regular  lines  and  streets  extended  huts  of  branches 
for  the  meaner  soldiers,  leading  up,  in  serried  rows  but 
broad  vistas,  to  the  tents  of  the  knights,  and  the  gaudier 
pavilions  of  the  counts  and  prelates.  There  were  to  be 
seen  the  flags  of  Bretagne  and  Anjou,  of  Burgundy,  of 
Flanders,  even  the  ensign  of  France,  which  the  volun- 
teers from  that  country  had  assumed;  and,  right  in 
the  midst  of  this  Capital  of  War,  the  gorgeous  pavilion 
of  William  himself,  with  a  dragon  of  gold  before  it, 
surmounting  the  staff,  from  which  blazed  the  Papal 
gonfanon.  In  every  division  they  heard  the  anvils  of 
the  armorers,  the  measured  tread  of  the  sentries,  the 
neigh  and  snort  of  innumerable  steeds.  And  along  the 
lines,  between  hut  and  tent,  they  saw  tall  shapes  pass- 
ing to  and  from  the  forge  and  smithy,  bearing  mail 
and  swords  and  shafts.  No  sound  of  revel,  no  laugh 
of  wassail  was  heard  in  the  consecrated  camp ;  all  was 
astir,  but  with  the  grave  and   earnest   preparations  of 

1  "  Ke  d'une  angarde  "  u  ils  'estuient 
Cols  de  Tost  vireut,  ki  pres  furent.  " 

"  Roman  de  Rou,"  Second  Part,  v.  12, 126. 

a  Angarde,  eminence. 


282  HAROLD. 

thoughtful  men.  As  the  four  Saxons  halted  silent, 
each  might  have  heard,  through  the  remoter  din,  the 
other's  })ainful  breathing. 

At  length,  from  two  tents,  placed  to  the  right  and 
left  of  the  duke's  pavilion,  there  came  a  sweet  tinkling 
sound,  as  of  deep  silver  bells.  At  that  note  there  was 
an  evident  and  universal  commotion  throughout  tlie 
armament.  The  roar  of  the  hammers  ceased ;  and  from 
every  green  hut  and  every  gray  tent,  swarmed  the  host. 
Now  rows  of  living  men  lined  the  camp-streets,  leaving 
still  a  free,  though  narrow  passage  in  the  midst.  And, 
by  the  blaze  of  more  than  a  thousand  torches,  the  Saxons 
saw  processions  of  priests,  in  their  robes  and  aubes,  with 
censer  and  rood,  couiing  down  the  various  avenues.  As 
the  priests  paused,  the  warriors  knelt;  and  there  was 
a  low  mttrmur  as  if  of  confession,  and  the  sign  of  lifted 
hands,  as  if  in  absolution  and  blessing.  Suddenly,  from 
the  outskirts  of  the  camp,  and  full  in  sight,  emerged 
from  one  of  the  cross  lanes,  Odo  of  Bayeux  himself,  in 
his  white  surplice,  and  the  cross  in  his  right  hand. 
Yea,  even  to  the  meanest  and  lowliest  soldiers  of  the 
armament,  whether  taken  from  honest  craft  and  peace- 
ful calling,  or  the  outpourings  of  Europe's  sinks  and 
sewers,  catamarans  from  the  Alps,  and  cut-throats  from 
the  Rhine,  —  yea,  even  among  the  vilest  and  the  mean- 
est, came  the  anointed  brother  of  the  great  duke,  the 
haughtiest  prelate  in  Christendom,  whose  heart  even 
then  was  fixed  on  the  Pontiff's  throne,  —  there  he  came, 
to  absolve,  and  to  shrive,  and  to  bless.  And  the  red 
watch-fires  streamed  on  his  proud  face  and  spotless 
robes,  as  the  Children  of  Wrath  knelt  around  the 
Delegate  of  Peace. 

Harold's    hand    clinched  firm  on  the  arm  of  Gurth, 
and  his  old  scorn  of  the  monk  broke  forth  in  his  bitter 


HAROLD.  283 

smile  and  his  muttered  words.  But  Gurtli's  face  was 
sad  and  awed. 

And  now,  as  the  huts  and  the  canvas  thus  gave  up 
the  living,  they  could  indeed  behold  the  enormous 
disparity  of  numbers  with  which  it  was  their  doom  to 
contend,  and,  over  those  numbers,  that  dread  intensity 
of  zeal,  that  sublimity  of  fanaticism,  which  from  one 
end  of  that  war-town  to  the  other,  consecrated  injustice, 
gave  the  heroism  of  the  martyr  to  ambition,  and  blended 
the  whisper  of  lusting  avarice  with  the  self-applauses 
of  the  saint! 

jSot  a  word  said  the  four  Saxons.  But  as  the  priestly 
procession  glided  to  the  farther  quarters  of  the  arma- 
ment, as  the  soldiers  in  their  neighborhood  disappeared 
within  their  lodgements,  and  the  torches  moved  from 
them  to  the  more  distant  vistas  of  the  camp,  like  lines 
of  retreating  stars,  Gurth  heaved  a  heavy  sigh,  and 
turned  his  horse's  head  from  the  scene. 

But  scarce  had  they  gained  the  centre  of  the  wood, 
than  there  rose,  as  from  the  heart  of  the  armament, 
a  swell  of  solemn  voices.  For  the  night  had  now  come 
to  the  third  watch  ,^  in  which,  according  to  the  belief 
of  the  age,  angel  and  fiend  Avere  alike  astir,  and  that 
church  division  of  time  was  marked  and  hallowed  by 
a  monastic  hymn. 

Inexpressibly  grave,  solemn,  and  mournful  came  the 
strain  through  the  drooping  boughs,  and  the  heavy 
darkness  of  the  air;  and  it  continued  to  thrill  in  the 
ears  of  the  riders  till  they  had  passed  the  wood,  and 
the  cheerful  watchfires  from  their  own  heights  broke 
upon  them  to  guide  their  way.  They  rode  rapidly,  but 
still  in  silence,  past  their  sentries;  and,  ascending  the 
slopes  where  the  forces   lay  thick,  how  different  were 

1  Miduiglit. 


284  HAROLD. 

the  sounds  that  smote  them !  Hound  the  larrje  fires  the 
men  grouped  in  great  circles,  with  tlie  ale-horns  and 
flagons  passing  merrily  from  hand  to  hand,  shouts  of 
drink-heel  and  was-hael,  bursts  of  gay  laughter,  snatches 
of  old  songs,  old  as  the  days  of  Athelstaa,  —  varying, 
where  the  Anglo-Danes  lay,  into  the  far  more  animated 
and  kindly  poetry  of  the  Pirate  North,  — still  spoke  of 
the  heathen  time  when  War  was  a  joy,  and  Valhalla 
was  the  heaven. 

"  By  my  faith,"  said  Leofwine,  brightening,  "  these 
are  sounds  and  sights  that  do  a  man's  heart  good,  after 
those  doleful  ditties,  and  the  long  faces  of  the  shave- 
lings. I  vow  by  St.  Alban  that  I  felt  my  veins  curdling 
into  icebolts  when  that  dirge  came  through  the  woodholt. 
Hollo,  Sexwolf,  my  tall  man,  lift  vas  up  that  full  horn 
of  thine,  and  keep  thyself  within  the  pins.  Master 
Wassailer;  we  must  have  steady  feet  and  cool  heads 
to-morrow. " 

Sexwolf,  who,  with  a  band  of  Harold's  veterans,  was 
at  full  carousal,  started  up  at  the  young  earl's  greetings, 
and  looked  lovingly  into  his  smiling  face  as  he  reached 
him  the  horn. 

"  Heed  what  my  brother  bids  thee,  Sexwolf,"  said 
Harold,  severely ;  "  the  hands  that  draw  shafts  against 
us  to-morrow  will  not  tremble  with  the  night's  wassail." 

"  Nor  ours  either,  my  lord  the  king,"  said  Sexwolf, 
boldly;  "our  heads  can  bear  both  drink  and  blows, — 
and  "  (sinking  his  voice  into  a  whisper)  "  the  rumor  runs 
that  the  odds  are  so  against  us,  that  I  would  not,  for  all 
thy  fair  brothers'  earldoms,  have  our  men  other  than 
blithe  to-night." 

Harold  answered  not,  but  moved  on,  and  coming 
then  within  full  sight  of  the  bold  Saxons  of  Kent,  the 
unmixed  sons  of  the  Saxon  soil,  and  the  special  favorers 


HAROLD.  285 

of  the  House  of  Godwin,  so  affectionate,  hearty,  and 
cordial  was  their  joyous  shout  of  his  name,  that  he  felt 
his  kingly  heart  leap  within  him.  Dismounting,  he 
entered  the  circle,  and,  with  the  august  frankness  of 
a  noble  chief,  nobly  popular,  gave  to  all,  cheering  smile 
and  animated  word.  That  done,  he  said  more  gravely: 
"In  less  than  an  hour,  all  wassail  must  cease, — my 
bodes  will  come  round ;  and  then  sound  sleep,  my  brave 
merry  men,  and  lusty  rising  with  the  lark." 

"As  you  will,  as  you  will,  dear  our  king,"  cried 
Vebba,  as  spokesman  for  the  soldiers.  "Fear  us  not, 
—  life  and  death,  we  are  yours." 

"  Life  and  death  yours,  and  freedom's,"  cried  the 
ICent  men. 

Coming  now  towards  the  royal  tent  beside  the  stan- 
dard, the  discipline  was  more  perfect,  and  the  hush 
decorous.  Por  round  that  standard  were  both  the 
special  body-guard  of  the  king,  and  the  volunteers 
from  London  and  Middlesex;  men  more  intelligent 
than  the  bulk  of  the  army,  and  more  gravely  aware, 
therefore,   of  the  might  of  Norman  sword. 

Harold  entered  his  tent,  and  threw  himself  on  his 
couch  in  deep  reverie;  his  brothers  and  Haco  watched 
him  silently.  At  length  Gurth  approached,  and,  with 
a  reverence  rare  in  the  familiar  intercourse  between  the 
two,  knelt  at  his  brother's  side,  and,  taking  Harold's 
hand  in  his,  looked  him  full  in  the  face,  his  eyes  moist 
with  tears,  and  said  thus:  — 

"  Oh,  Harold!  never  prayer  have  I  asked  of  thee  that 
thou  hast  not  granted:  grant  me  this!  sorest  of  all,  it 
may  be,  to  grant,  but  most  fitting  of  all  for  me  to  press. 
Think  not,  0  beloved  brother,  0  honored  king,  think 
not  it  is  with  slighting  reverence,  that  I  lay  rough  hand 
on  the  wound  deepest  at  thy  heart.     But  however  sur- 


286  HAROLD. 

prised  or  compelled,  sure  it  is  that  thou  didst  make  oath 
to  William,  and  upon  the  relics  of  saints;  avoid  this 
battle,  for  I  see  that  thought  is  now  within  thy  soul; 
that  thought  haunted  thee  in  the  words  of  the  monk 
to-day;  in  the  sight  of  that  awful  camp  to-night;  — 
avoid  this  battle!  and  do  not  thyself  stand  in  arms 
against  the  man  to  whom  the  oath  was  pledged !  " 

"  Gurth,  Gurth!"  exclaimed  Harold,  pale  and 
writhing. 

"We,"  continued  his  brother — "we  at  least  have 
taken  no  oath,  no  perjury  is  charged  against  us;  vainly 
the  thunders  of  the  Vatican  are  launched  on  our  heads. 
Our  war  is  just;  we  but  defend  our  country.  Leave 
us,  then,  to  fight  to-morrow;  thou  retire  towards  London 
and  raise  fresh  armies;  if  we  win,  the  danger  is  past;  if 
we  lose,  thou  wilt  avenge  us.  And  England  is  not  lost 
while  thou  survivest. " 

"  Gurth,  Gurth!  "  again  exclaimed  Harold,  in  a  voice 
piercing  in  its  pathos  of  reproach. 

"  Gurth  counsels  well,"  said  Haco,  abruptly;  "there 
can  be  no  doubt  of  the  wisdom  of  his  words.  Let  the 
king's  kinsmen  lead  the  troops;  let  the  king  himself 
with  his  guard  hasten  to  London,  and  ravage  and  lay 
waste  the  country  as  he  retreats  by  the  way ;  ^  so  that, 
even  if  William  beat  us,  all  supplies  will  fail  him;  he 
Avill  be  in  a  land  without  forage,  and  victory  here  will 
aid  him  nought;  for  you,  my  liege,  will  have  a  force 
equal  to  his  own,  ere  he  can  march  to  the  gates  of 
London." 

"  Faith  and  troth,  the  young  Haco  speaks  like  a  gray- 
beard;  he  hath  not  lived  in  Rouen  for  nought,"  quoth 

1  Tliis  counsel  the  Norman  chronicler  ascribes  to  Gurth,  but  it 
is  so  at  variance  with  the  character  of  tliat  hero,  that  it  is  here 
assigned  to  the  unscrupulous  intellect  of  Haco. 


HAEOLD.  287 

Leofwine.  "  Hear  him,  my  Harold,  and  leave  us  to 
shave  the  Normans  yet  more  closely  than  the  barber 
hath  already  shorn." 

Harold  turned  ear  and  eye  to  each  of  the  speakers, 
and  as  Leofwine  closed,  he  smiled, 

"  Ye  have  chid  me  well,  kinsmen,  for  a  thought  that 
had  entered  into  my  mind  ere  ye  spake  —  " 

Gurth  interrupted  the  king,  and  said,  anxiously, — 

"  To  retreat  with  the  whole  army  upon  London,  and 
refuse  to  meet  the  Norman  till  with  numbers  more  fairly 
matched  ?  " 

"  That  had  been  my  thought,"  said  Harold,  surprised. 

"  Such  for  a  moment,  too,  was  mine,"  said  Gurth, 
sadly;  "  but  it  is  too  late.  Such  a  measure  now,  would 
have  all  the  disgrace  of  flight,  and  bring  none  of  the 
profits  of  retreat.  The  ban  of  the  Church  would  get 
wind;  our  priests,  awed  and  alarmed,  might  wield  it 
against  us ;  tlie  whole  population  would  be  damped  and 
disheartened;  rivals  to  the  crown  might  start  up;  the 
realm  be  divided.     No,  it  is  impossible!" 

"Impossible,"  said  Harold,  calmly.  "And  if  the 
army  cannot  retreat,  of  all  men  to  stand  firm,  surely  it 
is  the  captain  and  the  king.  /,  Gurth,  leave  others  to 
dare  the  fate  from  which  I  fly !  /  give  weight  to  the 
impious  curse  of  the  Pope,  by  shrinking  from  its  idle 
blast!  /  confirm  and  ratify  the  oath,  from  which  all  law 
must  absolve  me,  by  forsaking  the  cause  of  the  land 
which  I  purify  myself  when  I  guard!  /leave  to  others 
the  agony  of  the  martyrdom  or  the  glory  of  the  conquest ! 
Gurth,  thou  art  more  cruel  than  the  Norman!  And  I, 
son  of  Sweyn,  /  ravage  the  land  committed  to  my  charge, 
and  despoil  the  fields  which  I  cannot  keep!  Oh,  Haco, 
that  indeed  were  to  be  the  traitor  and  the  recreant! 
No,  whatever  the  sin  of   my  oath,  never  will    I  believe 


288  HAROLD. 

that  Heaven  can  punish  millions  for  the  error  of  one 
naan.  Let  the  bones  of  the  dead  war  against  us;  in 
Jife,  they  were  men  like  ourselves;  and  no  saints  in  the 
calendar  so  holy  as  the  freemen  who  figlit  for  tlieir 
hearths  and  their  altars.  Nor  do  I  see  anght  to  alarm 
us  even  in  tliese  grave  human  odds.  We  have  but  to 
keep  fast  these  intrenchments ;  preserve,  man  by  man, 
our  invincible  line,  —  and  the  waves  will  but  split  on 
our  rock:  ere  the  sun  set  to-morrow,  we  shall  see  the 
tide  ebb,  leaving,  as  waifs,  but  the  dead  of  the  baffled 
invader. 

"  Fare  ye  well,  loving  kinsmen ;  kiss  me,  my  brothers  ; 
kiss  me  on  the  cheek,  my  Haco.  Go  now  to  your  tents. 
Sleep  in  peace,  and  wake  with  the  trumpet  to  the  glad- 
ness of  noble  war !  " 

Slowly  the  earls  left  the  king;  slowest  of  all  the 
lingering  Gurth ;  and  when  all  were  gone,  and  Harold 
was  alone,  he  threw  round  a  rapid,  troubled  glance,  and 
then,  hurrying  to  the  simple,  imageless  crucifix  that 
stood  on  its  pedestal  at  the  farther  end  of  the  tent,  he 
fell  on  his  knees,  and  faltered  out,  Avhile  his  breast 
heaved,  and  his  frame  shook  with  the  travail  of  his 
passion,  — 

"  If  my  sin  be  beyond  a  pardon,  my  oath  without  recall, 
on  me,  on  me,  0  Lord  of  Hosts,  on  me  alone  the  doom! 
Not  on  them,  not  on  them,  — not  on  England  I  " 


HAROLD.  289 


CHAPTER  VII. 

On  the  14th  of  October,  1066,  the  day  of  St.  Calixtus, 
the  Norman  force  was  drawn  out  in  battle  array.  Mass 
had  been  said;  Odo  and  the  Bishop  of  Coutance  had 
blessed  the  troops,  and  received  their  vow  never  more 
to  eat  flesh  on  the  anniversary  of  that  day.  And  Odo 
had  mounted  his  snow-white  charger,  and  already  drawn 
up  the  cavalry  against  the  coming  of  his  brother  the  duke. 
The  army  was  marshalled  in  three  great  divisions. 

Eoger  de  Montgommeri  and  William  Fitzosborne  led 
the  first ;  and  with  them  were  the  forces  from  Picardy 
and  the  countship  of  Boulogne,  and  the  fiery  Franks; 
Geoffric  Martel  and  the  German  Hugues  (a  prince  of 
fame) :  Aimeri,  Lord  of  Thouars,  and  the  sons  of  Alain 
Fergant,  Duke  of  Bretagne,  led  the  second,  which  com- 
prised the  main  bulk  of  the  allies  from  Bretagne,  and 
Maine,  and  Poitou.  But  both  these  divisions  Avere 
intermixed  with  Normans,  under  their  own  special 
Norman  chiefs. 

The  third  section  embraced  the  flower  of  martial 
Europe,  the  most  renowned  of  the  Norman  race;  whether 
those  knights  bore  the  French  titles  into  which  their 
ancestral  Scandinavian  names  had  been  transformed, 
—  Sires  of  Beaufou  and  Harcourt,  Abbeville,  and 
De  Molun,  Montfichet,  Grantmesnil,  Lacie,  D'Ain- 
court,  and  D'Asnieres;  or  whether,  still  preserving, 
amidst  their  daintier  titles,  the  old  names  that  had 
scattered  dismay  through  the  seas  of  the  Baltic,  — 
Osborne  and  Tonstain,  Mallet  and  Bulver,  Brand  and 

VOL.  II. — 19 


290  HAROLD. 

Briise.^  And  over  this  division  presided  Duke  "Wil- 
liam. Here  was  the  main  body  of  the  matchless  cav- 
alry, to  which,  however,  orders  were  given  to  support 
either  of  the  other  sections,  as  need  might  demand. 
And  with  this  body  were  also  the  reserve.  For  it  is 
curious  to  notice,  that  William's  strategy  resembled  in 
much  that  of  the  last  great  Invader  of  ISTations,  —  rely- 
ing first  upon  the  effect  of  the  charge;  secondly,  upon 
a  vast  reserve  brought  to  bear  at  the  exact  moment  on 
the  Aveakest  point  of  the  foe. 

All  the  horsemen  were  in  complete  link  or  net  mail,^ 
armed  with  spears  and  strong  swords,  and  long,  pear- 
shaped  shields,  with  the  device  either  of  a  cross  or  a 
dragon.^  The  archers,  on  whom  William  greatly  relied, 
were  numerous  in  all  three  of  the  corps, ^  were  armed 
more  lightly,  —  helms  on  their  heads,  but  with  leather 
or  quilted  breast  plates,  and  "panels,"  or  gaiters,  for 
the  lower  limbs. 

1  Osborne  (Asbiorn),  one  of  tbe  most  common  of  Danish  and 
Norwegian  names.  Tonstain,  Toustain,  or  Tostiiin,  the  same  as 
Tosti,  or  Tostig,  Danish.  (Harold's  brother  is  called  Tostain  or 
Toustain  in  the  Norman  chronicles. )  Brand,  a  name  common  to 
Dane  and  Norwegian, — Rulmer  is  a  Norwegian  name,  and  so  is 
Bulver,  or  Bolvar, — which  is,  indeed,  so  purely  Scandinavian, 
that  it  is  one  of  the  warlike  names  given  to  Odin  himseK  by  the 
Northscalds.  Bulverhitlie  still  commemorates  the  landing  of  a 
Norwegian  son  of  tlie  war-god.  Bruce,  the  ancestor  of  the  death- 
less Scot,  also  bears  in  that  name,  more  illustrious  than  all,  the 
proof  of  his  f^candinavian  birth. 

2  This  mail  appears  in  that  age  to  have  been  sewn  upon  linen  or 
cloth.  In  the  later  age  of  the  crusaders,  it  was  more  artful,  and 
the  links  supported  each  other,  without  being  attached  to  any 
other  material. 

^  Bayeux  tapestry. 

*  The  cross-bow  is  not  to  be  seen  in  the  Bayeux  tapestry,  —  the 
Norman  bows  are  not  long. 


HAROLD.  291 

But  before  the  chiefs  and  captains  rode  to  tlieir 
several  posts,  they  assembled  round  William,  whom 
Fitzosborne  had  called  betimes,  and  who  had  not  yet 
endued  his  heavy  mail,  that  all  men  might  see  sus- 
pended from  his  throat  certain  relics  chosen  out  of 
those  on  wliich  Harold  had  pledged  his  fatal  oatli. 
Standing  on  an  eminence  in  front  of  all  his  lines,  tlie 
consecrated  banner  behind  him,  and  Bayard,  liis  Spanish 
destrier,  held  V)y  his  squires  at  his  side,  the  duke  con- 
versed cheerily  with  his  barons,  often  pointing  to  the 
relics.  Then,  in  sight  of  all,  he  put  on  his  mail,  and, 
by  the  haste  of  his  squires,  the  backpiece  was  presented 
to  him  first.  The  superstitious  Normans  recoiled  as  at 
an  evil  omen. 

"Tut!"  said  the  ready  chief;  "not  in  omens  and 
divinations,  but  in  God,  trust  I!  Yet,  good  omen, 
indeed  is  this,  and  one  that  may  give  heart  to  the 
most  doubtful ;  for  it  betokens  that  the  last  shall  be 
first:  the  dukedom  a  kindgom,  —  the  count  a  king  ! 
Ho  there,  Rou  de  Terni,  as  hereditary  standard-bearer 
take  thy  right,  and  hold  fast  to  yon  holy  gonfanon." 

"  Grant  merci,"  said  De  Terni,  "not  to-day  shall  a 
standard  be  borne  by  me,  for  I  shall  have  need  of  my 
right  arm  for  my  sword,  and  my  left  for  my  charger's 
rein  and  my  trusty  shield." 

"Thou  sayst  right,  and  we  can  ill  spare  such  a 
warrior.  Gautier  Giffart,  Sire  do  Longueville,  to  thee 
is  the  gonfanon." 

"■  BeoM  Sire,"  answered  Gautier;  "^^ar  Dex,  merci. 
But  my  head  is  gray  and  my  arm  weak;  and  the  little 
strength  left  me  I  would  spend  in  smiting  the  English 
at  the  head  of  my  men." 

"Per  la  resplendar  De"  cried  William,  frowning; 
— "  do  ye  think,  my  proud  vavasours,  to  fail  me  in  this 
great  need  ?  " 


292  HAKOLD. 

"Nay,"  said  Gautier;  "but  I  have  a  great  host  of 
chevaliers  and  paid  soldiers,  and  without  the  old  man 
at  their  head  will  they  fight  as  well  1  " 

"  Then,  approach  thou,  Tonstain  le  Blanc,  son  of 
Eou,"  said  William;  "and  be  thine  the  charge  of  a 
standard  that  shall  wave  ere  nightfall  over  the  brows 
of  thy  —  Jcinff  !  "  A  young  knight,  tall  and  strong  as 
his  Danish  ancestor,  stepped  forth  and  laid  gripe  on 
the  banner. 

Then  William,  noAV  completely  armed,  save  his 
helmet,  sprang  at  one  bound  on  his  steed.  A  shout  of 
admiration  rang  from  the  quens  and  knights. 

"  Saw  ye  ever  such  beau  rei  ?  "  ^  said  the  Vicomte  de 
Thouars. 

The  shout  was  caught  by  the  lines,  and  echoed  far, 
wide,  and  deep  through  the  armament,  as  in  all  his 
singular  majesty  of  brow  and  mien,  William  rode  forth: 
lifting  his  hand,  the  shout  hushed,  and  thus  he  spoke, 
"  loud  as  a  trumpet  with  a  silver  sound:  "  — 

"  Normans  and  soldiers,  long  renowned  in  the  lips  of 
men  and  now  hallowed  by  the  blessing  of  the  Church ! 
—  I  have  not  brought  you  over  the  wide  seas  for  my 
cause  alone:  what  I  gain,  ye  gain.  If  I  take  the  land 
you  will  share  it.  Pight  your  best  and  spare  not;^ 
no  retreat  and  no  quarter !  I  am  not  come  here  for  my 
cause  alone,  but  to  avenge  our  whole  nation  for  the 
felonies  of  yonder  English.  They  butchered  our  kins- 
men tlie  Danes,  on  the  night  of  St.  Brice  ;  they  murdered 
Alfred,  the  brother  of  their  last  king,  and  decimated  the 
Normans  who  were  with  him.  Yonder  they  stand, — 
malefactors  that  await  their  doom!  and  ye  the  dooms- 
men!  Never,  even  in  a  good  cause,  were  yon  English 
illustrious  for  warlike  temper  and  martial  glory.* 
1  "  Koman  de  Rou."  2  William  of  Poitiers. 


HAKOLD.  293 

Remember  how  easily  the  Danes  subdued  them!  Are 
ye  less  than  Danes,  or  I  than  Canute  1  By  victory  ye 
obtain  vengeance,  glory,  honors,  lands,  spoil,  —  ay, 
spoil  beyond  your  wildest  dreams.  By  defeat  —  yea 
even  but  by  loss  of  ground  —  ye  are  given  up  to  the 
sword !  Escape  there  is  not,  for  the  ships  are  useless. 
Before  you  the  foe,  behind  you  the  ocean!  Normans, 
remember  the  feats  of  your  countrymen  in  Sicily! 
Behold  a  Sicily  more  rich!  Lordships  and  lands  to 
the  living,  —  glory  and  salvation  to  those  who  die 
under  the  gonfanon  of  the  Cliurch!  On  to  the  cry  of 
the  Norman  warrior;  the  cry  before  which  have  fled  so 
often  the  prowest  Paladins  of  Burgundy  and  France, 
'  Notre  Dame  et  Bex  aide  /  '  "  i 

Meanwhile,  no  less  vigilant,  and  in  his  own  strategy 
no  less  skilful,  Harold  had  marshalled  his  men.  He 
formed  two  divisions:  those  in  front  of  the  intrench- 
nients,  those  within  it.  At  the  first  the  men  of  Kent, 
as  from  time  immemorial,  claimed  the  honor  of  the  van, 
under  "  the  Pale  Charger,"  —  famous  banner  of  Hengist. 
This  force  was  drawn  up  in  the  form  of  the  Anglo- 
Danish  wedge;  the  foremost  lines  in  the  triangle  all  in 
heavy  mail,  armed  Avith  their  great  axes  and  covered 
by  their  immense  shields.  Behind  these  lines,  in  the 
interior  of  the  wedge,  were  the  archers,  protected  by 
the  front  rows  of  the  heavy  armed ;  while  the  few 
horsemen  —  few  indeed  compared  with  the  Norman 
cavalry  —  were  artfully  disposed  where  they  could  best 
harass  and  distract  the  formidable  chivalry  with  which 
they  were  instructed  to  skirmish  and  not  peril  actual 
encounter.  Other  bodies  of  the  light  armed  —  slingers, 
javelin-throwers,  and  archers  —  were  planted  in  spots 
carefully  selected,  according  as  they  were  protected  by 

1  Dieu  nous  aide. 


294  HAROLD. 

trees,  lorush wood,  and  dykes.  The  Northumbrians  (that 
is,  all  the  warlike  population  north  the  Humber,  includ- 
ing Yorkshire,  Westmoreland,  Cumberland,  etc.)  were, 
for  their  present  shame  and  future  ruin,  absent  from 
the  field,  save,  indeed,  a  few  who  had  joined  Harold 
in  his  march  to  London.  But  there  were  the  mixed 
races  of  Hertfordshire  and  Essex,  with  the  pure  Saxons 
of  Sussex  and  Surrey,  and  a  large  body  of  the  sturdy 
Anglo-Danes  from  Lincolnshire,  Ely,  and  Norfolk. 
Men,  too,  there  were,  half  of  old  British  blood,  from 
Dorset,   Somerset,  and  Gloucester, 

And  all  were  marshalled  according  to  those  touching 
and  pathetic  tactics  which  speak  of  a  nation  more  accus- 
tomed to  defend  than  to  aggrieve.  To  that  field  the 
head  of  each  family  led  his  sons  and  kinsfolk;  every 
ten  families  (or  tything)  were  united  under  their  own 
chosen  captain.  Every  ten  of  these  tythings  had  again 
some  loftier  chief,  dear  to  the  populace  in  peace;  and 
so  on  the  holy  circle  spread  from  household,  hamlet, 
town, — till,  all  combined,  as  one  county  under  one 
earl,  the  warriors  fought  under  the  eyes  of  their  own 
kinsfolk,  friends,  neighbors,  chosen  chiefs!  What 
wonder  that  they  were  brave  1 

The  second  division  comprised  Harold's  house-carles, 
or  body-guard,  —  the  veterans  especially  attached  to  his 
family,  the  companions  of  his  successful  wars,  a  select 
band  of  the  martial  East-Anglians,  the  soldiers  sup- 
plied by  London  and  Middlesex,  and  who,  both  in 
arms,  discipline,  martial  temper,  and  athletic  habits, 
ranked  high  among  the  most  stalwart  of  the  troops, 
mixed  as  their  descent  was,  from  the  warlike  Dane 
and  the  sturdy  Saxon.  In  this  division,  too,  was 
comprised  the  reserve.  And  it  was  all  encompassed 
by  the   palisades  and  breastworks,  to  which   were    but 


HAROLD.  295 

three  sorties  whence  the  defenders  might  sally,  or 
through  Avhich  at  need  the  vanguard  might  secure  a 
retreat.  All  the  heavy  armed  had  mail  and  shields 
similar  to  the  Normans,  though  somewhat  less  heavy; 
the  light  armed  had  some  tunics  of  quilted  linen,  some 
of  hide;  helmets  of  the  last  material,  spears,  javelins, 
swords,  and  clubs.  But  the  main  arm  of  the  host  was 
in  the  great  shield  and  the  great  axe  wielded  by 
men  larger  in  stature  and  stronger  of  muscle  than  the 
majority  of  the  Normans,  whose  physical  race  had 
deteriorated,  partly  by  intermarriage  with  the  more 
delicate  Frank,  partly  by  the  haughty  disdain  of  foot 
exercise. 

Mounting  a  swift  and  light  steed,  intended  not  for 
encounter  (for  it  was  the  custom  of  English  kings  to 
fight  on  foot,  in  token  that  where  they  fought  there  was 
no  retreat),  but  to  bear  the  rider  rapidly  from  line  to 
line,^  King  Harold  rode  to  the  front  of  the  vanguard; 
—  his  brothers  by  his  side.  His  head,  like  his  great 
foe's,  was  bare,  nor  could  there  be  a  more  striking  con- 
trast than  that  of  the  broad,  unwrinkled  brow  of  the 
Saxon,  with  his  fair  locks,  the  sign  of  royalty  and  free- 
dom, parted  and  falling  over  the  collar  of  mail,  the  clear 
and  steadfast  eye  of  blue,  the  cheek  somewhat  hollowed 
by  kingly  cares,  but  flushed  now  with  manly  pride;  the 
form  stalwart  and  erect,  but  spare  in  its  graceful  sym- 
metry, and  void  of  all  tliat  theatric  pomp  of  bearing 
which  was  assumed  by  William, — no  greater  contrast 
could  there  be  than  that  which  the  simple  earnest  hero- 
king  presented  to  the  brow  furrowed  with  harsh  ire  and 
politic  wile,   the  shaven   hair   of   monastic    afiectation, 

1  Thus,  when  at  the  battle  of  Barnet,  Earl  Warwick,  the  king 
maker,  slew  his  horse  and  fought  ou  foot,  he  followed  the  old  tr* 
ditional  custom  of  Saxou  chiefs. 


296  HAROLD. 

the  dark,  sparkling  tiger  eye,  and  the  vast  proportions 
that  awed  the  gaze  in  the  port  and  form  of  the  impe- 
rious Norman.  Deep  and  loud  and  hearty  as  the  shout 
Avith  which  his  armaments  had  welcomed  William,  was 
that  which  now  greeted  the  king  of  the  English  host: 
and  clear  and  full  and  practised  in  the  storm  of  popular 
assemblies,  went  his  voice  down  the  listening  lines. 

"  This  day,  0  friends  and  Englishmen,  sons  of  our 
common  land,  —  this  day  ye  fight  for  liberty.  The 
count  of  the  Normans  hath,  I  know,  a  mighty  army;  I 
disguise  not  its  strength.  That  army  he  hath  collected 
together,  by  promising  to  each  man  a  share  in  the  spoils 
of  England.  Already,  in  his  court  and  his  camp,  he 
hath  parcelled  out  the  lands  of  this  kingdom ;  and  fierce 
are  the  robbers  who  fight  for  the  hope  of  plunder!  But 
he  cannot  offer  to  his  greatest  chief  boons  nobler  than 
those  I  offer  to  my  meanest  freeman, — liberty,  and 
right,  and  law,  in  the  soil  of  his  fathers!  Ye  have 
heard  of  the  miseries  endured  in  the  old  time  under 
the  Dane,  but  they  were  slight  indeed  to  those  which 
ye  may  expect  from  the  Norman.  The  Dane  was  kin- 
dred to  us  in  language  and  in  law,  and  who  now  can  tell 
Saxon  from  Dane  1  But  yon  men  would  rule  ye  in 
a  language  ye  know  not,  by  a  law  that  claims  the  crown 
as  the  right  of  the  sword,  and  divides  the  land  among 
the  hirelings  of  an  army.  We  baptized  the  Dane,  and 
the  Church  tamed  his  fierce  soul  into  peace;  but  yon 
men  make  the  Chxirch  itself  their  ally,  and  march  to 
carnage  under  the  banner  profaned  to  the  foulest  of 
human  wrongs!  Oatscourings  of  all  nations,  they  come 
against  you!  Ye  fight  as  brothers  under  the  eyes  of 
your  fathers  and  chosen  chiefs ;  ye  fight  for  the  women 
ye  would  save  from  the  ravisher;  ye  fight  for  the  chil- 
dren ye  would  guard  from  eternal  bondage ;  ye  fight  for 


HAROLD.  297 

the  altars  which  yon  banner  now  darkens!  Foreign 
priest  is  a  tyrant  as  ruthless  and  stern  as  ye  shall  find 
foreign  baron  and  king!  Let  no  man  dream  of  retreat; 
every  inch  of  ground  that  ye  yield  is  the  soil  of  your 
native  land.  For  me,  on  this  field  I  peril  all.  Think 
that  mine  eye  is  upon  you  wherever  ye  are.  If  a  line 
waver  or  shrink,  ye  shall  hear  in  the  midst  the  voice  of 
your  king.  Hold  fast  to  your  ranks;  remember,  such 
amongst  you  as  fought  with  me  against  Hardrada, — 
remember  that  it  was  not  till  the  Norsemen  lost,  by 
rash  sallies,  their  serried  array ,  that  our  arms  prevailed 
against  them.  Be  warned  by  their  fatal  error,  break 
not  the  form  of  the  battle;  and  I  tell  you  on  the  faith 
of  a  soldier  who  never  yet  hath  left  field  without  vic- 
tory, that  ye  cannot  be  beaten.  While  I  speak,  the 
winds  swell  the  sails  of  the  Norse  ships,  bearing  home 
the  corpse  of  Hardrada.  Accomplish  this  day  the  last 
triumph  of  England;  add  to  these  hills  a  new  mount 
of  the  conquered  dead!  And  when,  in  far  times  and 
strange  lands,  scald  and  scop  shall  praise  the  brave  man 
for  some  valiant  deed  wrouglit  in  some  holy  cause,  they 
shall  say,  '  He  was  brave  as  those  who  fought  by  the 
side  of  Harold,  and  swept  from  the  sward  of  England 
the  hosts  of  the  haughty  Norman.'  " 

Scarcely  had  the  rapturous  hurrahs  of  the  Saxons 
closed  on  this  speech,  when  full  in  sight,  north-west 
of  Hastings,  came  the  first  division  of  the  invader. 

Harold  remained  gazing  at  them,  and  not  seeing  the 
other  sections  in  movement,  said  to  Gurth,  "  If  these 
are  all  that  they  venture  out,  the  day  is  ours. " 

"  Look  yonder !  "  said  the  sombre  Haco,  and  he  pointed 
to  the  long  array  that  now  gleamed  from  the  wood 
through  which  the  Saxon  kinsmen  had  passed  the  night 
before ;  and  scarcely  were  these  cohorts  in  view,  than  lo ! 


298  HAROLD. 

from  a  third  quarter  advanced  the  glittering  knighthood 
under  the  duke.  All  three  divisions  came  on  in  simultane- 
ous assault,  —  two  on  either  wing  of  the  Saxon  vanguard, 
the  third  (the  Norman)  towards  the  intrenchments. 

In  the  midst  of  the  duke's  cohort  was  the  sacred 
gonfanon,  and  in  front  of  it  and  of  the  whole  line,  rode 
a  strange  warrior  of  gigantic  height.  And  as  he  rode, 
the  warrior  sang, — 

"  Chanting  loud  the  lusty  strain 
Of  Roland  and  of  Charleniain, 
And  the  dead,  who,  deathless  all, 
Fell  at  famous  Roncesval."  ^ 

And  the  knights,  no  longer  singing  hymn  and  litany, 
swelled,  hoarse  through  their  helmets,  the  martial 
chorus.  This  warrior,  in  front  of  the  duke  and  the 
horsemen,  seemed  heside  himself  with  the  joy  of  battle. 
As  he  rode,  and  as  he  chanted,  he  threw  up  his  sword 
in  the  air  like  a  gleeman,  catching  it  nimbly  as  it  fell,^ 
and  floiirishing  it  wildly,  till,  as  if  unable  to  restrain 
his  fierce  exhilaration,  he  fairly  put  spurs  to  his  horse, 
and,  dashing  forward  to  the  very  front  of  a  detachment 
of  Saxon  riders,  shouted,  — 

"  A  Taillefer !  a  Taillefer !  "  and  by  voice  and  gesture 
challenged  forth  some  one  to  single  combat. 

A  fiery  young  thegn,  who  knew  the  Romance  tongue, 
started  forth  and  crossed  swords  with  the  poet;  but  by 

1  Devant  li  Dus  alout  cantant 
De  Karlemaiue  e  de  Rollant, 
Ed  \)lever  e  des  Vassalls 
Ki  morurent  en  Ronchevals. 

"  Roman  de  Rou,"  Part  ii.  1,  13,  151. 

Much  research  has  been  made  by  French  antiquaries  tu  discovei 
the  okl  Chant  de  Roland,  ])Ut  in  vain. 
2  W.  PiCT. :  "  Chron.  de  Nor." 


HAROLD.  299 

what  seemed  rather  a  juggler's  sleight  of  hami  than  a 
knight's  fair  fence,  Taillefer,  again  throwing  vip  and 
catching  his  sword  with  incredible  rapidity,  shore  the 
unhappy  Saxon  from  the  helm  to  the  chine,  and  riding 
over  his  corpse,  shouting  and  laughing,  he  again  re- 
newed his  challenge.  A  second  rode  forth  and  shared 
the  same  fate.  The  rest  of  the  English  horsemen  stared 
at  each  other  aghast;  the  shouting,  singing,  juggling 
giant  seemed  to  them  not  knight,  but  demon ;  and  that 
single  incident,  preliminary  to  all  other  battle,  in  sight 
of  the  whole  field,  might  have  sufficed  to  damp  the 
ardor  of  the  English,  had  not  Leofwine,  who  had  been 
despatched  by  the  king  with  a  message  to  the  intrench- 
ments,  come  in  front  of  the  detachment;  and  his  gay 
spirit  roused  and  stung  by  the  insolence  of  the  Norman, 
and  the  evident  dismay  of  the  Saxon  riders,  without 
thought  of  his  graver  duties,  he  spurred  his  light  half- 
mailed  steed  to  the  Norman  giant;  and,  not  even  draw- 
ing his  sword,  but  with  his  spear  raised  over  his  head, 
and  his  form  covered  by  his  shield,  he  cried  in  Romance 
tongue,  "  Go  and  chant  to  the  foul  fiend,  0  croaking 
minstrel!  "  Taillefer  rushed  forward,  his  sword  shivered 
on  the  Saxon  shield,  and  in  the  same  moment  he  fell  a 
corpse  under  the  hoofs  of  his  steed,  transfixed  by  the 
Saxon  spear. 

A  cry  of  woe,  in  Avhich  even  William  (who,  proud  of 
his  poet's  achievements,  had  pressed  to  the  foremost 
line  to  see  this  new  encovmter)  joined  his  deep  voice, 
wailed  through  the  Norman  ranks;  while  Leofwine  rode 
deliberately  towards  them,  halted  a  moment,  and  then 
flung  his  spear  into  the  midst  with  so  deadly  an  aim, 
that  a  young  knight,  within  two  of  William,  reeled  on 
his  saddle,  groaned,  and  fell. 

"  How    like   ye,  0   Normans,  the    Saxon  gleemen  1 " 


300  HAEOLD. 

said  Leofvvine,  as  he  turned  slowly,  regained  the  de- 
tachment, and  bade  them  heed  carefully  the  orders  they 
had  received,  —  namely,  to  avoid  the  direct  charge  of 
the  Norman  horse,  but  to  take  every  occasion  to  harass 
and  divert  the  stragglers;  and  then,  blithely  singing  a 
Saxon  stave,  as  if  inspii-ed  by  Norman  minstrelsy,  he 
rode  into  the  intrenchments. 


HAROLD.  301 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 

The  two  brethren  of  Waltham,  Osgood  and  Ailred,  had 
arrived  a  little  after  daybreak  at  the  spot  in  which,  about 
half  a  mile  to  the  rear  of  Harold's  palisades,  the  beasts 
of  burden  that  had  borne  the  heavy  arms,  missiles,  lug- 
gage, and  forage  of  the  Saxon  march,  were  placed  in  and 
about  the  fenced  yards  of  a  farm.  And  many  human 
beings,  of  both  sexes  and  various  ranks,  were  there  as- 
sembled, some  in  breathless  expectation,  some  in  careless 
talk,  some  in  fervent  prayer. 

The  master  of  the  farm,  his  sons,  and  the  able-bodied 
ceorls  in  his  employ  had  joined  the  forces  of  the  king, 
under  Gurth,  as  earl  of  the  county.^  But  many  aged 
theowes,  past  military  service,  and  young  children, 
grouped  around:  the  first,  stolid  and  indifferent;  the 
last,  prattling,  curioiis,  lively,  gay.  There,  too,  were 
the  wives  of  some  of  the  soldiers,  who,  as  common  in 
Saxon  expeditions,  had  followed  their  husbands  to  the 
field;  and  there,  too,  were  the  ladies  of  many  a  Hlaford 
in  the  neigliboring  district,  who,  no  less  true  to  their 
mates  than  the  wives  of  humbler  men,  were  draAvn  by 
their  English  hearts  to  the  fatal  spot.  A  small  wooden 
chapel,  half  decayed,  stood  a  little  behind,  witli  its  doors 

^  For,  as  Sir  F.  Palgrave  shrewdly  conjectures,  upon  the  dis- 
memberment of  the  vast  earhlom  of  Wessex,  on  Harold's  accession 
to  the  throne,  that  portion  of  it  comprising  Sussex  (the  ohl  gov- 
ernment of  his  grandfather  Wolnoth)  seems  to  have  been  assigned 
to  Gurth. 


302  HAKOLD. 

wide  open,  a  sanctuary  in  case  of  need;  and  the  interior 
was  thronged  with  kneeling  suppliants. 

The  two  monks  joined,  with  pious  gladness,  some  of 
their  sacred  calling,  who  were  leaning  over  the  low  wall, 
and  straining  their  eyes  towards  the  bristling  field.  A 
little  apart  from  them,  and  from  all,  stood  a  female; 
the  hood  drawn  over  her  face,  silent  in  her  unknown 
thoughts. 

By  and  by,  as  the  march  of  the  Norman  miiltitude 
sounded  hollow,  and  the  trumps,  and  the  fifes,  and  the 
shouts  rolled  on  through  the  air,  in  many  a  stormy  peal, 
—  the  two  abbots  in  the  Saxon  camp,  with  their  attend- 
ant monks,  came  riding  towards  the  farm  from  the 
intrenchments. 

The  groups  gathered  round  these  new-comers  in  haste 
and  eagerness. 

"  The  battle  hath  begun, "  said  the  abbot  of  Hide, 
gravely.  "  Pray  God  for  England,  for  never  was  its 
people  in  peril  so  great  from  man." 

The  female  started  and  shuddered  at  those  words. 

"  And  the  king,  the  king, "  she  cried,  in  a  sudden  and 
thrilling  voice  ;  "  Avhere  is  he  ?  —  the  king  1  " 

"  Daughter, "  said  the  abbot,  "  the  king's  post  is  by 
his  standard ;  but  I  left  him  in  the  van  of  his  troops. 
AVhere  he  may  be  now,  I  know  not.  Wherever  the  foe 
presses  sorest." 

Then  dismounting,  the  abbots  entered  the  yard,  to 
be  accosted  instantly  by  all  the  wives,  who  deemed, 
poor  souls,  that  the  holy  men  must,  throughout  all  the 
field,  have  seen  fheu-  lords;  for  each  felt  as  if  God's 
world  hung  but  on  the  single  life  in  which  each  pale 
trembler  lived. 

With  all  their  faults  of  ignorance  and  superstition, 
the  Saxon  churchmen  loved  their  flocks;  and  the  good 


HAROLD.  303 

abbots  gave  what  comfort  was  in  their  power,  and  then 
passed  into  the  chapel,  where  all  who  could  find  room 
followed  them. 

The  war  now  raged. 

The  two  divisions  of  the  invading  army  that  included 
the  auxiliaries  had  sought  in  vain  to  surround  the 
English  vanguard,  and  take  it  in  the  rear:  that  noble 
phalanx  had  no  rear.  Deepest  and  strongest  at  the  base 
of  the  triangle,  everywhere  a  front  opposed  the  foe; 
shields  formed  a  rampart  against  the  dart, —  spears  a 
palisade  against  the  horse.  While  that  vanguard  main- 
tained its  ground,  William  could  not  pierce  to  tlie  in- 
trenchments,  the  strength  of  which,  however,  he  was 
enabled  to  perceive.  He  now  changed  his  tactics,  joined 
his  knighthood  to  the  other  sections,  threw  his  hosts 
rapidly  into  many  wings,  and,  leaving  broad  spaces 
between  his  archers,  —  who  continued  their  fiery  hail, — - 
ordered  his  heavy-armed  foot  to  advance  on  all  sides 
upon  the  wedge,  and  break  its  ranks  for  the  awaiting 
charge  of  his  horse. 

Harold,  still  in  the  centre  of  the  vanguard,  amidst 
the  men  of  Kent,  continued  to  animate  them  all  with 
voice  and  hand ;  and,  as  the  Normans  now  closed  in,  he 
flung  himself  from  his  steed,  and  strode  on  foot,  with 
his  mighty  battle-axe,  to  the  spot  where  the  rush  was 
dreadest. 

iSTow  came  the  shock,  —  the  fight  hand  to  hand : 
spear  and  lance  were  thrown  aside,  axe  and  sword  rose 
and  shore.  But  before  the  close,  serried  lines  of  the 
English,  with  their  physical  strength,  and  veteran  prac- 
tice in  their  own  special  arm,  the  Norman  foot  Ave  re 
mowed  as  by  the  scythe.  Tn  vain,  in  the  intervals, 
thundeied  the  repeated  charges  of  the  fiery  knights;  in 
vain,  throughout  all,  came  the  shaft  and  the  bolt. 


304  HAROLD. 

Animated  by  the  presence  of  their  king,  fighting 
amongst  tliem  as  a  simple  soldier,  but  with  his  eye  ever 
quick  to  foresee,  his  voice  ever  prompt  to  warn,  the 
men  of  Kent  swerved  not  a  foot  from  their  indomitable 
ranks.  The  ISTorman  infantry  wavered  and  gave  way; 
on,  step  by  step,  still  unbroken  in  array,  pressed  the 
English.  And  their  cry,  "Out!  out!  Holy  Crosse!" 
rose  high  above  the  flagging  sound  of  "  Ha  Rou !  Ha 
Eou!  — Kotre  Dame!" 

"  Per  la  resplendar  De, "  cried  William.  "  Our  sol- 
diers are  but  women  in  the  garb  of  I^ormans.  Ho, 
spears  to  the  rescue!  With  me  to  the  charge.  Sires 
D'Aumale  and  De  Littaiu,  —  with  me,  gallant  Bruse  and 
De  Mortain;  with  me,  De  Graville  and  Grantmesnil: 
Dex  aide!  Notre  Dame."  And  heading  his  prowest 
knights,  William  came  as  a  thunderbolt  on  the  bills  and 
shields.  Harold,  who  scarce  a  minute  before  had  been 
in  a  remoter  rank,  was  already  at  the  brunt  of  that 
charge.  At  his  word  down  knelt  the  foremost  line, 
leaving  nought  but  their  shields  and  their  spear-points 
against  the  horse.  While  behind  them,  the  axe  in  both 
hands,  bent  forward  the  soldiery  in  the  second  rank,  to 
smite  and  to  crush.  And,  from  the  core  of  the  wedge, 
poured  the  shafts  of  the  archers.  Down  rolled  in  the 
dust  half  the  charge  of  those  knights.  Bruse  reeled  on 
his  saddle ;  the  dread  right-hand  of  D'Aumale  fell  lopped 
by  the  axe;  De  Graville,  hurled  from  his  horse,  rolled 
at  the  feet  of  Harold;  and  William,  borne  by  his  great 
steed  and  his  colossal  strength  into  the  third  rank,  there 
dealt,  right  and  left,  the  fierce  strokes  of  his  iron  club, 
till  he  felt  his  horse  sinking  under  him,  and  had  scarcely 
time  to  back  from  the  foe,  —  scarcely  time  to  get  beyond 
reach  of  tlieir  weapons,  —  ere  the  Spanish  destrier, 
frightfully  gashed  through  its  strong  mail,  fell  dead  on 


HAROLD.  305 

the  plain.  His  knights  swept  round  him.  Twenty 
barons  leaped  from  selle  to  yield  him  their  chargers. 
He  chose  the  one  nearest  to  hand,  sprang  to  foot  and  to 
stirrup,  and  rode  back  to  his  lines.  Meanwhile,  De 
Graville's  casque,  its  strings  broken  by  the  shock,  had 
fallen  off,  and  as  Harold  was  about  to  strike,  he  recog- 
nized his  guest. 

Holding  up  his  hand  to  keep  off  the  press  of  his  men, 
the  generous  king  said,  briefly,  "  Rise  and  retreat !  —  no 
time  on  this  field  for  captor  and  captive.  He  whom 
thou  hast  called  recreant  knight  has  been  Saxon  host. 
Thou  hast  fought  by  his  side,  thou  shalt  not  die  by  his 
hand!  — Go." 

Not  a  word  spoke  De  Graville;  but  his  dark  eye 
dwelt  one  minute  with  mingled  pity  and  reverence  on 
the  king;  then  rising,  he  turned  away;  and  slowly,  as 
if  he  disdained  to  fly,  strode  back  over  the  corpses  of 
his  countrymen. 

"  Stay,  all  hands !  "  cried  the  king  to  his  archers ; 
"  yon  man  hath  tasted  our  salt,  and  done  us  good  ser- 
vice of  old.     He  hath  paid  his  weregeld." 

Not  a  shaft  was  discharged. 

Meanwhile,  the  Norman  infantry,  who  had  been  before 
recoiling,  no  sooner  saAv  their  duke  (whom  they  recog- 
nized by  his  steed  and  equipment)  fall  on  the  ground, 
than,  setting  up  a  shout,  "  The  duke  is  dead  ! "  they 
fairly  turned  round,  and  fled  fast  in  disorder. 

The  fortune  of  the  day  was  now  wellnigh  turned  in 
favor  of  the  Saxons ;  and  the  confusion  of  the  Nor- 
mans, as  the  cry  of  "  The  duke  is  dead !  "  reached,  and 
circled  round  the  host,  would  have  been  irrecoverable, 
had  Harold  possessed  a  cavalry  fit  to  press  the  advan- 
tage gained,  or  had  not  William  himself  rushed  into 
the  midst  of  the  fugitives,  throwing  his  helmet  back 
VOL.  II. —  20 


306  HAROLD. 

on  his  neck,  shoAving  his  face,  all  animated  with  fierce 
valor  and  disdainful  wrath,  while  he  cried  aloud, — ■ 

"I  live,  ye  varlets !  Behold  the  face  of  a  chief  who 
never  yet  forgave  coward !  Ay,  tremble  more  at  me 
than  at  yon  English,  doomed  and  accursed  as  they  he! 
Ye  Normans,  ye !  I  blush  for  you !  "  and  striking  the 
foremost  in  the  retreat  with  the  flat  of  his  sword,  chid- 
ing, stimulating,  threatening,  promising  in  a  breath,  he 
succeeded  in  staying  the  flight,  re-forming  the  lines, 
and  dispelling  the  general  panic.  Then,  as  he  joined 
his  own  chosen  knights,  and  surveyed  the  field,  he 
beheld  an  opening  which  the  advanced  position  of  the 
Saxon  vanguard  had  left,  and  by  which  his  knights 
might  gain  the  intrenchments.  He  mused  a  moment, 
his  face  still  bare,  and  brightening  as  he  mused. 
Looking  round  him,  he  saw  Mallet  de  Graville,  who 
had  remounted,  and  said,  shortly, — 

"  Pardex,  dear  knight,  we  thought  you  already  with 
St.  Michael!  joy,  that  you  live  yet  to  be  an  English 
earl.  Look  you,  ride  to  Fitzosborne  with  the  signal- 
'Word,   ^  Li  Hardiz  passent  aimnt  !  ^     Off",  and  quick." 

De  Graville  bowed,  and  darted  across  the  plain. 

"Now,  my  quens  and  chevaliers,"  said  William, 
gayly,  as  he  closed  his  helmet,  and  took  from  his  squire 
another  spear;  "  noAV,  I  shall  give  ye  the  day's  great 
pastime.  Pass  the  word,  Sire  de  Tancarville,  to  every 
horseman,  '  Charge !  —  to  the  Standard !  '  " 

The  word  passed,  the  steeds  bounded,  and  the  whole 
force  of  William's  knighthood,  scouring  the  plain  to 
the  rear  of  the  Saxon  vanguard,  made  for  the  intrench- 
ments. 

At  that  sight,  Harold,  divining  the  object,  and  see- 
ing tliis  new  and  more  urgent  demand  on  his  presence, 
halted  the  battalions  over  which  he  had  presided,  and, 


HAROLD.  307 

yielding  the  command  to  Leofwine,  once  more  briefly 
but  strenuously  enjoined  the  troops  to  heed  well  their 
leaders,  and  on  no  account  to  break  the  wedge,  in  the 
form  of  which  lay  their  whole  strength  both  against 
the  cavalry  and  the  greater  number  of  the  foe.  Then 
mounting  his  horse,  and  attended  only  by  Haco,  he 
spurred  across  the  plain  in  the  opposite  direction  to 
that  taken  by  the  Normans.  In  doing  so,  he  was 
forced  to  make  a  considerable  circuit  towards  the  rear 
of  the  intrenchment,  and  the  farm,  with  its  watchful 
groups,  came  in  sight.  He  distinguished  the  garl^s  of 
the  women,  and  Haco  said  to  him, — 

"  There  wait  the  wives,  to  welcome  the  living  victors." 

"Or  search  their  lords  among  the  dead!"  answered 
Harold.  "  Wlio,  Haco,  if  we  fall,  will  search  for 
us?" 

As  the  word  left  his  lips,  he  saw,  under  a  lonely 
thorn-tree,  and  scarce  out  of  bowshot  from  the  intrench- 
ments,  a  woman  seated.  The  king  looked  hard  at  the 
bended,  hooded  form. 

"  Poor  wretch  !  "  he  murmured,  "  her  heart  is  in  the 
battle  !  "  And  he  shouted  aloud,  "  Farther  off  !  farther 
off!  —  the  war  rushes  hitherward!  " 

At  the  sound  of  that  voice  the  woman  rose,  stretched 
her  arras,  and  sprang  forward.  But  the  Saxon  cliiefs 
had  already  turned  their  faces  towards  the  neighboring 
ingress  into  the  ramparts,  and  beheld  not  her  movement, 
while  the  tramp  of  rushing  chargers,  the  shout  and  the 
roar  of  clashing  war,  drowned  the  wail  of  her  feeble 
cry. 

"  I  have  heard  him  again,  again  !  "  murmured  the 
■woman,  "  God  be  praised  !  "  and  she  reseated  herself 
quietly  under  the  lonely  thorn. 

As  Harold  and  Haco  sprang  to  their  feet  within  the 


308  HAKOLD. 

intrenchments,  the  sliout  of  "  tlie  king,  the  king !  — • 
Holy  Crosse !  "  came  in  time  to  rally  the  force  at  the 
farther  end,  now  undergoing  the  full  storm  of  the  Nor- 
man chivalry. 

The  willow  ramparts  were  already  rent  and  hewed 
beneath  the  hoofs  of  horses  and  the  clash  of  swords, 
and  the  sharp  points  on  the  frontals  of  the  Norman 
destriers  were  already  gleaming  within  the  intrench- 
ments, when  Harold  arrived  at  the  brunt  of  action. 
The  tide  was  then  turned;  not  one  of  those  rash  riders 
left  the  intrenchments  they  had  gained;  steel  and 
horse  alike  went  down  beneath  the  ponderous  battle- 
axes;  and  William,  again  foiled  and  baffled,  drew  off 
his  cavalry  with  the  reluctant  conviction  that  those 
breastworks,  so  manned,  were  not  to  be  won  by  horse. 
Slowly  the  knights  retreated  down  the  slope  of  the 
hillock,  and  the  English,  animated  by  that  sight,  would 
have  left  their  stronghold  to  pursue,  but  for  the  warn- 
ing cry  of  Harold.  The  interval  in  the  strife  thus 
gained  was  promptly  and  vigorously  employed  in  repair- 
ing the  palisades.  And  this  done,  Harold,  turning  to 
Haco  and  the  thegns  round  him,  said,  joyously, — 

"  By  Heaven's  help  we  shall  yet  win  this  day.  And 
know  you  not  that  it  is  my  fortunate  day,  —  the  day  on 
which,  hitherto,  all  hath  prospered  with  me  in  peace 
and  in  war,  —  the  day  of  my  birth?  " 

"  Of  your  birth  !  "  echoed  Haco  in  surprise. 

"  Ay,  —  did  you  not  know  it  ?  " 

"  Nay  !  —  strange !  —  it  is  also  the  birthday  of  Duke 
William  !  What  would  astrologers  say  to  the  meeting 
of  such  stars  V  ^ 

^  Harold's  birthday  was  certainly  the  14th  of  October.  Accord- 
ing to  Mr.  Koscoe,  in  his  "  Life  of  William  the  Conqueror,"  Wil- 
liam was  born  also  on  the  14th  of  October. 


HAROLD.  309 

Harold's  cheek  paled,  but  his  helmet  concealed  the 
paleness;  his  arm  drooped.  The  strange  dream  of 
his  yoi;th  agahi  came  distinct  before  him,  as  it  had 
come  in  the  hall  of  the  Norman  at  the  sight  of  the 
ghastly  relics:  again  he  saw  the  shadowy  hand  from 
the  cloud ;  again  heard  the  voice  murmuring,  "  Lo ! 
the  star  that  shone  on  the  birth  of  the  victor ;  "  again 
he  heard  the  words  of  Hilda  interpreting  the  dream,  — • 
again  the  chant  which  the  dead  or  the  fiend  had  poured 
from  the  rigid  lips  of  the  Vala.  It  boomed  on  his  ear : 
hollow  as  a  death-bell   it   knelled  through  the  roar  of 

battle,  — 

"  Never 
Crown  and  brow  shall  Force  dissever, 
Till  the  dead  men,  unforgiving. 
Loose  the  war-steeds  on  the  living; 
Till  a  sun  whose  race  is  ending 
Sees  the  rival  stars  contending, 
Where  the  dead  men,  unforgiving. 
Wheel  their  war-steeds  round  the  living !  " 

Faded  the  vision  and  died  the  chant,  as  a  breath  that 
dims  and  vanishes  from  the  mirror  of  steel.  The 
breath  was  gone,  —  the  firm  steel  was  bright  once  more ; 
and  suddenly  the  king  was  recalled  to  the  sense  of  the 
present  hour  by  shouts  and  cries,  in  which  the  yell  of 
Norman  triumph  predominated,  at  the  farther  end  of 
the  field.  The  signal  words  to  Fitzosborne  had  con- 
veyed to  that  chief  the  order  for  the  mock  charge  on 
the  Saxon  vanguard,  to  be  followed  by  the  feigned 
fliglit;  and  so  artfully  had  this  stratagem  been  prac- 
tised, that  despite  all  the  solemn  orders  of  Harold,  — ■ 
despite  even  the  warning  cry  of  Leofwine,  who,  rash  and 
gay-hearted  though  he  was,  had  yet  a  captain's  skill,  — • 
the  bold  English,  their  blood  heated  by  long  contest  and 


310  iiAi;oLD. 

seeming  victory,  could  not  resist  pursuit.  They  ruslied 
forward  impetuously,  breaking  the  order  of  their  hitherto 
indomitable  phalanx,  and  the  more  eagerl}^  because  the 
Normans  had  unwittingly  taken  their  way  towards  a  part 
of  the  ground  concealing  dykes  and  ditches,  into  which 
the  English  trusted  to  precipitate  the  foe.  It  was  as 
William's  knights  retreated  from  the  breastworks  that 
this  fatal  error  was  committed;  and  pointing  towards 
the  disordered  Saxons  with  a  wild  laugli  of  revengeful 
joy,  William  set  spurs  to  his  horse,  and,  followed  by 
all  his  chivalry,  joined  the  cavalry  of  Poitou  a)id 
Boulogne  in  their  swoop  upon  the  scattered  array. 
Already  the  Norman  infantry  had  turned  round,  — 
already  the  horses  that  lay  in  ambush  amongst  the  brush- 
wood near  the  dykes  had  thundered  forth.  The  whole 
of  the  late  impregnable  vanguard  was  broken  up,  divided 
corps  from  corps,  hemmed  in ;  horse  after  horse  charging 
to  the  rear,  to  the  front,  to  the  flank,  to  the  right,  to  the 
left. 

Gurth,  with  the  men  of  Surrey  and  Sussex,  had  alone 
kept  their  ground,  Ijut  they  were  now  compelled  to  ad- 
vance to  the  aid  of  their  scattered  comrades;  and  coming 
up  in  close  order,  they  not  only  awhile  stayed  the 
slaughter,  but  again  lialf  turned  the  day.  Knowing  the 
country  thoroughly,  Gurth  lured  the  foe  into  the  ditches 
concealed  within  a  hundred  yards  of  their  own  ambush, 
and  there  the  havoc  of  the  foreigners  was  so  great,  that 
the  hollows  are  said  to  have  been  literally  made  level 
with  the  plain  by  their  corpses.  Yet  this  combat,  how- 
ever fierce,  and  however  skill  might  seek  to  repair  the 
former  error,  coidd  not  be  long  maintained  against  such 
disparity  of  numbers.  And  meanwhile  the  whole  of  the 
division  under  Geoffroi  IVIartel  and  his  co-captains  had,  by 
a  fresh  order  of  William's,  occupied  the  space  between 


HAEOLD.  311 

the  intrenchments  and  the  more  distant  engagement; 
thus,  when  Harold  looked  up,  he  saw  the  foot  of  the 
hillocks  so  lined  with  steel  as  to  render  it  liopeless  that 
he  himself  could  win  to  the  aid  of  his  vanguard.  He  set 
his  teeth  firmly,  looked  on,  and  only  by  gesture  and 
smothered  exclamations  showed  his  emotions  of  hope  and 
fear.     At  length  he  cried,  — 

"  Gallant  Gurth  !  brave  Leofwine,  look  to  their  pen- 
nons ;  right,  right ;  well  fought,  sturdy  Vebba  !  Ha ! 
they  are  moving  this  way.  The  wedge  cleaves  on,  —  it 
cuts  its  path  through  the  heart  of  the  foe."  And,  in- 
deed, the  chiefs  now  drawing  off  the  shattered  remains 
of  their  countrymen,  still  disunited,  but  still  each  sec- 
tion shaping  itself  wedge-like,  —  on  came  the  English, 
with  their  shields  over  their  head,  through  the  tempest 
of  missiles,  against  the  rush  of  the  steeds,  here  and  there, 
through  the  plains,  up  the  slopes,  towards  the  intrench- 
ment,  in  the  teeth  of  the  formidable  array  of  Martel, 
and  harassed  by  hosts  that  seemed  numberless.  The 
king  could  restrain  himself  no  longer.  He  selected 
five  hundred  of  his  bravest  and  most  practised  vet- 
erans yet  comparatively  fresh,  and  commanding  the 
rest  to  stay  firm,  descended  the  hills,  and  charged  un- 
expectedly into  the  rear  of  the  mingled  iSTormans  and 
Bretons. 

This  sortie,  well-timed  though  desperate,  served  to 
cover  and  favor  the  retreat  of  the  straggling  Saxons. 
Many,  indeed,  were  cut  off,  bv;t  Gurth,  Leofwine,  and 
Vebba  heAved  the  way  for  their  followers  to  the  side  of 
Harold,  and  entered  the  intrenchments,  close  followed 
by  the  nearer  foe,  who  were  again  repulsed  amidst  the 
shouts  of  the  English. 

But,  alas !  small  indeed  the  band  thus  saved,  and  hope- 
less the  thought  that  the  small  detachments  of  English 


312  HAEOLD. 

still  surviving  and  scattered  over  the  plain  would  ever 
win  to  their  aid. 

Yet  in  those  scattered  remnants  were,  perhaps,  almost 
the  only  men  who,  availing  themselves  of  their  acquaint- 
ance with  the  country,  and  despairing  of  victory,  escaped 
by  flight  from  the  field  of  Sanguelac.  Nevertheless, 
within  the  intrenchments  not  a  man  had  lost  heart ;  the 
day  was  already  far  advanced,  no  impression  had  been  yet 
made  on  the  outworks,  the  position  seemed  as  impregna- 
ble as  a  fortress  of  stone ;  and,  truth  to  say,  even  the 
bravest  Normans  were  disheartened,  when  they  looked  to 
that  eminence  which  had  foiled  the  charge  of  William 
himself.  The  duke,  in  the  recent  melee  had  received 
more  than  one  wound ;  his  third  horse  that  day  had  been 
slain  under  him.  The  slaiighter  among  the  knights  and 
nobles  had  been  immense,  for  they  had  exposed  their 
persons  with  the  most  desperate  valor.  And  William, 
after  surveying  the  rout  of  nearlj'  one-half  of  the  English 
army,  heard  everywhere,  to  his  wrath  and  his  shame, 
murmurs  of  discontent  and  dismay  at  the  prospect  of 
scaling  the  heights,  in  which  the  gallant  remnant  had 
found  their  refuge. 

At  this  critical  JTincture,  Odo  of  Bayeux,  who  had 
hitherto  remained  in  the  rear  ^  with  the  crowds  of  monks 
that  accompanied  the  armament,  rode  into  the  full  field, 
where  all  the  hosts  were  re-forming  their  lines.  He 
was  in  complete  mail ;  but  a  white  surplice  was  drawn 
over  the  steel,  his  head  was  bare,  and  in  his  right  hand  he 
bore  the  crozier.  A  formidable  club  swung  by  a  leathern 
noose  from  his  wrist,  to  be  used  only  for  self-defence: 
the  canons  forbade  the  priest  to  strike  merely  in  assault. 

Behind  the  milk-white  steed  of  Odo  came  the  whole 
body   of    reserve,    fresh  and    unbreathed,    free   from  the 

1  William  Pict. 


H  AHOLD.  313 

terrors  of  their  comrades,  and  stung  into  proud  wrath 
at  the  delay  of  the  Norman  conquest. 

"  How  now,  how  now !  "  cried  the  prelate ;  "  do  ye 
flag?  do  ye  falter  when  tlie  sheaves  are  down  and  ye 
have  but  to  gather  up  the  harvest  ?  How  now,  sons  of 
the  Church  !  warriors  of  the  Cross !  avengers  of  the 
Saints!  Desert  your  count  if  ye  please;  but  shrink 
not  back  from  a  Lord  mightier  than  man.  Lo,  I  come 
forth  to  ride  side  by  side  with  my  brother,  bare-headed, 
the  crozier  in  my  hand.  He  who  fails  his  liege  is  but  a 
coward,  —  he  who  fails  the  Church  is  apostate!  " 

The  fierce  shout  of  the  reserve  closed  this  harangue, 
and  the  words  of  the  prelate,  as  well  as  the  physical  aid 
he  brought  to  back  them,  renerved  the  army.  And  now 
the  whole  of  AVilliam's  mighty  host,  covering  the  field 
till  its  lines  seemed  to  blend  with  the  gray  horizon,  came 
on  —  serried,  steadied,  orderly  —  to  all  sides  of  the  in- 
trenchment.  Aware  of  the  inutility  of  his  horse  till  the 
breastworks  were  cleared,  William  placed  in  the  van  all 
his  heavy  armed  foot,  spearmen,  and  archers,  to  open  the 
way  throiigh  the  palisades,  the  sorties  from  which  had 
now  been  carefully  closed. 

As  they  came  up  the  hills,  Harold  turned  to  Haco  and 
said,  "  Where  is  thy  battle-axe  ?  " 

"  Harold, "  answered  Haco,  with  more  than  his  usual 
tone  of  sombre  sadness,  "  I  desire  now  to  be  thy  shield- 
bearer,  for  thou  must  use  thine  axe  with  both  hands 
while  the  day  lasts  and  thy  shield  is  useless.  Where- 
fore, thou  strike  and  I  will  shield  thee." 

"  Thou  lovest  me,  then,  son  of  Sweyn ;  I  have  some- 
times doubted  it." 

"  I  love  thee  as  the  best  part  of  my  life,  and  with  thy 
life  ceases  mine :  it  is  my  heart  that  my  shield  guards 
when  it  covers  the  breast  of  Harold." 


314  HAKOLD. 

"  I  would  bid  thee  live,  poor  j'outli, "  whispered 
Harold ;  "  but  what  were  life  if  this  day  were  lost  1 
Happy,  then,  will  be  those  Avho  die!  " 

Scarce  had  the  words  left  his  lips  ere  he  sprang  to  the 
breastworks,  and  with  a  sudden  sweep  of  his  axe  down 
dropjjed  a  helm  that  peered  above  them.  But  helm 
after  helm  succeeds.  Now  they  come  on,  swarm  upon 
swarm,  as  wolves  on  a  traveller,  as  bears  round  a  bark. 
Countless,  amidst  their  carnage,  on  they  come!  The 
arrows  of  the  Norman  blacken  the  air:  Avith  deadly  pre- 
cision to  each  arm,  each  limb,  each  front  exposed  above 
the  bulwarks,  whirs  the  shaft.  They  clamber  the  pali- 
sades, the  foremost  fall  dead  under  the  Saxon  axe;  now 
thovisands  rush  on :  vain  is  the  might  of  Harold,  vain 
had  been  a  Harold's  might  in  every  Saxon  there!  The 
first  row  of  breastworks  is  forced,  — it  is  trampled, 
hewed,  crushed  down,  cumbered  with  the  dead.  "  Ha 
Rou !  Ha  Rou  !  Notre  Dame !  Notre  Dame  !  "  sounds 
joyous  and  shrill,  the  chargers  snort  and  leap,  and 
charge  into  the  circle.  High  wheels  in  air  the  great 
mace  of  William ;  bright  by  the  slaughterers  flashes  the 
crozier  of  the  Church. 

"  On,  Normans  !  —  earldom  and  land !  "  cries  the  duke. 

"  On,  sons  of  the  Church  !  Salvation  and  heaven  !  " 
shouts  the  voice  of  Odo. 

The  first  breastwork  down, —  the  Saxons  yielding  inch 
by  inch,  foot  by  foot,  are  pressed,  crushed  back,  into  the 
second  enclosure.  The  same  rush,  and  swarm,  and  fight, 
and  cry,  and  roar:  the  second  enclosure  gives  way.  And 
now,  in  the  centre  of  the  third  —  lo,  before  the  eyes  of 
the  Normans  —  towers  proudly  aloft  and  shines  in  the 
rays  of  the  western  sun,  broidered  Avith  gold  and  blazing 
with  mystic  gems,  the  standard  of  England's  king!  And 
there  are  gathered  the  reserve  of  the  English  host ;  there, 


HAEOLD.  315 

the  heroes  who  had  never  yet  known  defeat,  —  unwearied 
they  by  the  battle,  vigorous  high-hearted  still ;  and  round 
them  the  breastworks  were  thicker,  and  stronger,  and 
higher,  and  fastened  by  chains  to  pillars  of  wood  and 
staves  of  iron,  with  the  wagons  and  carts  of  the  bag- 
gage, and  piled  logs  of  timber, —  barricades  at  which 
even  William  paused  aghast,  and  Odo  stifled  an  excla- 
mation that  became  not  a  priestly  lip. 

Before  that  standard,  in  the  front  of  the  men,  stood 
Gurth,  and  Leofwine,  and  Haco,  and  Harold,  the  last 
leaning  for  rest  upon  his  axe,  for  he  was  sorely  wounded 
in  many  places,  and  the  blood  oozed  through  the  links  of 
his  mail. 

Live,  Harold !  live  yet,  and  Saxon  England  shall  not 
die! 

The  English  archers  had  at  no  time  been  numerous; 
most  of  them  had  served  with  the  vanguard,  and  the 
shafts  of  those  within  the  ramparts  were  spent;  so  that 
the  foe  had  time  to  pause  and  to  breathe.  The  Kor- 
man  arrows  meanwhile  flew  fast  and  thick,  but  William 
noted  to  his  grief  that  they  strvick  against  the  tall 
breastworks  and  barricades,  and  so  failed  in  the  slaughter 
they  should  inflict. 

He  mused  a  moment,  and  sent  one  of  his  knights  to 
call  to  him  three  of  the  chiefs  of  the  archers.  They 
were  soon  at  the  side  of  his  destrier. 

"See  ye  not,  maladroits,"  said  the  duke,  "that  your 
shafts  and  bolts  fall  harmless  on  those  ozier  walls? 
Shoot  in  the  air;  let  the  arrows  fall  perpendicular  on 
those  within,  fall  as  the  vengeance  of  the  saints  falls, — 
direct  from  heaven!  Give  me  thy  bow,  archer, —  thus." 
He  drew  the  bow  as  he  sat  on  his  steed,  —  the  arrow 
flashed  up,  and  descended  in  the  heart  of  the  reserve, 
within   a  few  feet  of  the  standard. 


316  HAROLD. 

"  So ;  that  standard  be  your  mark, "  said  the  duke, 
giving  back  the  bow. 

The  archers  withdrew.  The  order  circulated  through 
their  bands,  and  in  a  few  moments  more  down  came  the 
iron  rain.  It  took  the  English  host  as  by  surprise, 
piercing  hide  cap  and  even  iron  helm ;  and  in  the  very 
surprise  that  made  them  instinctively  look  up, —  death 
came. 

A  dull  groan  as  from  many  hearts  boomed  from  the 
intrenchments  on  the  Norman  ear. 

"  Now, "  said  William,  "  they  must  either  use  their 
shields  to  guard  their  heads,  and  their  axes  are  useless, 
or,  while  they  smite  with  the  axe  they  fall  by  the  shaft. 
On  now  to  the  ramparts.  I  see  my  crown  already  rest- 
ing on  yonder  standard  !  " 

Yet,  despite  all,  the  English  bear  up;  the  thickness 
of  the  palisades,  the  comparative  smallness  of  the  last 
enclosure,  more  easily  therefore  manned  and  maintained 
by  the  small  force  of  the  survivors,  defy  other  weapons 
than  those  of  the  bow.  Every  Norman  who  attempts 
to  scale  the  breastwork  is  slain  on  the  instant,  and  his 
body  cast  forth  under  the  hoofs  of  the  baffled  steeds. 
The  sun  sinks  near  and  nearer  towards  the  red  horizon. 

"Courage!"  cries  the  voice  of  Harold, —  "hold  but 
till  nightfall  and  ye  are  saved.      Courage  and  freedom  !  " 

"  Harold  and  Holy  Crosse !  "  is  the  answer. 

Still  foiled,  William  again  resolves  to  hazard  his  fatal 
stratagem.  He  marked  that  quarter  of  the  enclosure 
which  was  most  remote  from  the  chief  point  of  attack, 
—  most  remote  from  the  provident  watch  of  Harold, 
whose  cheering  voice  ever  and  anon  he  recognized  amidst 
the  hurtling  clamor.  In  this  quarter  the  palisades  were 
the  weakest  and  the  ground  the  least  elevated;  but  it 
was  guarded  by  men  on  whose  skill  with  axe  and  shield 


HAPtOLD.  317 

Harold  placed  the  firmest   reliance, —  the    Anglo-Danes 
of  his   old  East-Anglian    earldom.      Thither,    then,    the 
duke    advanced   a    chosen    column    of    his    heavy-armed 
foot,    tutored  especially  hy  himself  in  the  rehearsals  of 
his  favorite  ruse,  and  accompanied  by  a  hand  of  archers ; 
while  at  the  same   time,    he   himself,    with   his  brother 
Odo,   headed  a  considerable  company  of   knights  under 
the   son  of   the  great  Roger  de  Beaumont,  to  gain   the 
contiguous   level  heights    on    which    now    stretches    the 
little    town    of    "  Battle, "    there    to    watch    and    to    aid 
the    manoeuvre.       The    foot    column    advanced    to    the 
appointed   spot,    and  after  a   short,    close,    and  terrible 
conflict,    succeeded    in    making   a    wide    breach    in    the 
breastworks.     But  that  temporary  success  only  animates 
yet  more   the  exertions   of   the    beleaguered    defenders, 
and  swarming  round  the  breach,    and   pouring   through 
it,   line  after  line   of  the  foe  drop  beneath   their  axes. 
The   column    of   the    heavy-armed    Normans    fall    back 
down  the  slopes ;  they  give  way ;  they  turn  in   disorder ; 
they   retreat ;    they  fly ;  —  but    the   archers    stand   firm , 
midway  on  the  descent,  —  those   archers    seem    an    easy 
prey    to   the    English;    the    temptation    is    irresistible. 
Long  galled,  and  harassed,  and  maddened  by  the  shafts, 
the  Anglo-Danes  rush  forth  at  the  heels  of  the  Norman 
swordsmen,    and,    sweeping   down    to    exterminate    the 
archers,   the  breach  that  they  leave  gapes  wide. 

"  Forward !  "  cries  William,  and  he  gallops  towards 
the  breach. 

"  Forward !  "  cries  Odo ;  "  I  see  the  hands  of  the  holy 
saints  in  the  air  !  Forward !  it  is  the  dead  that  wheel 
our  war-steeds  round  the  living  ! " 

On  rush  the  Norman  knights.  But  Harold  is  already 
in  the  breach,  rallying  round  him  hearts  eager  to  replace 
the  shattered  breastworks. 


318  HAROLD. 

"  Close  shields!     Hold  fast!  "  shouts  his  kingly  voice. 

Before  him  were  the  steeds  of  Bruse  and  Grantmesnil, 
At  his  breast  their  spears ;  —  Haco  holds  over  the  breast 
the  shield.  Swinging  aloft  with  both  hands  his  axe, 
the  spear  of  Grantmesnil  is  shivered  in  twain  by  the 
king's  stroke.  Cloven  to  the  skull  rolls  the  steed  of 
Bruse.      Knight  and  steed  roll  on  the  bloody  sward. 

But  a  blow  from  the  sword  of  De  Lacy  has  broken 
down  the  guardian  shield  of  Haco.  The  son  of  Sweyn 
is  stricken  to  his  knee.  With  lifted  blades  and  whirling 
maces,  the  Norman  knights  charge  through  the  breach. 

"  Look  up,  look  up,  and  guard  thy  head !  "  cries  the 
fatal  voice  of  Haco  to  the  king. 

At  that  cry  the  king  raises  his  flashing  eyes.  Why 
halts  his  stride  1  Why  drops  the  axe  from  his  hand  ? 
As  he  raised  his  head,  down  came  the  hissing  death- 
shaft.  It  smote  the  lifted  face ;  it  crushed  into  the 
dauntless  eyeball.  He  reeled,  he  staggered,  he  fell 
back  several  yards,  at  the  foot  of  his  gorgeous  standard. 
With  desperate  hand  he  broke  the  head  of  the  shaft, 
and  left  the  barb,    quivering  in  the  anguish. 

Gurth  knelt  over  him. 

"  Fight  on  !  "  gasped  the  king :  "  conceal  my  death  ! 
Holy  Crosse !     England  to  the  rescue !  woe  —  woe !  " 

Rallying  himself  a  moment,  he  sprang  to  his  feet, 
clinched  his  right  hand,  and  fell  once  more,  —  a  corpse. 

At  the  same  moment  a  simultaneous  rush  of  horse- 
men towards  the  standard  bore  back  a  line  of  Saxons, 
and  covered  the  body  of  the  king  with  heaps  of  the  slain. 

His  helmet  cloven  in  two,  his  face  all  streaming  with 
blood,  but  still  calm  in  its  ghastly  hups,  amidst  the 
foremost  of  those  slain,  fell  the  fated  Haco.  He  fell 
with  his  head  on  the  breast  of  Harold,  kissed  the  bloody 
cheek  with  bloody  lips,  groaned,  and  died. 


HAROLD.  319 

Inspired  by  despair  with  superhuman  strength,  Gurth, 
striding  over  the  corpses  of  his  kinsmen,  opposed  him- 
self singly  to  the  knights;  and  the  entire  strength  of 
the  English  remnant,  coming  round  him  at  the  menaced 
danger  to  the  standard,  once  more  drove  off  the  assailants. 

But  now  all  the  enclosure  was  filled  with  the  foe; 
the  whole  space  seemed  gay  in  the  darkening  air  with 
banderols  and  banners.  High  through  all  rose  the  club 
of  the  conqueror;  high  through  all  shone  the  crozier 
of  the  churchman.  Xot  one  Englishman  fled ;  all  now 
centring  round  the  standard,  they  fell,  slaughtering  if 
slaughtered.  Man  by  man,  under  the  charmed  banner, 
fell  the  lithsmen  of  Hilda.  Then  died  the  faithful 
SexwoK.  Then  died  the  gallant  Godrith,  redeeming, 
by  the  death  of  many  a  Xorman,  his  young  fantastic 
love  of  the  Norman  manners.  Tlien  died,  last  of  such 
of  the  Kent  men  as  had  won  retreat  from  their  scattered 
vanguard  into  the  circle  of  closing  slaughter,  the  English- 
hearted  Vebba. 

Even  still  in  that  age,  when  the  Teuton  had  yet  in 
his  veins  the  blood  of  Odin,  the  demi-god,  —  even  still 
one  man  could  delay  the  might  of  numbers.  Through 
the  crowd,  the  i!^ormans  beheld  with  admiring  awe  here, 
in  the  front  of  their  horse,  a  single  warrior,  before  whose 
axe  spear  shivered,  helm  drooped, —  there,  close  by  the 
staiidard,  standing  breast  high  among  the  slain,  one  still 
more  formidable,  and  even  amidst  ruin  unvanquished. 
The  first  fell  at  length  under  the  mace  of  Roger  de 
Montgommeri.  So,  unknown  to  the  Norman  poet  (who 
hath  preserved  in  his  verse  the  deeds  but  not  the  name), 
fell,  laughing  in  death,  young  Leofwine!  Still  by  the 
enchanted  standard  towers  the  other;  still  the  enchanted 
standard  waves  aloft,  with  its  brave  ensign  of  the  solitary 
"  Fighting  Man  "  girded  by  the  gems  that  had  flashed  in 
the  crown  of  Odin. 


320  HAROLD. 

"  Thine  be  the  honor  of  lowering  that  haughty  flag,  ** 
cried  William,  turning  to  one  of  his  favorite  and  most 
famous  knights,  Robert  de  Tessin. 

Overjoyed,  the  knight  rushed  forth,  to  fall  by  the  axe 
of  that  stubborn  defender. 

"  Sorcery  !  "  cried  Fitzosborne,  "  sorcery !  This  is  no 
man,  but  fiend. " 

"  Spare  him  !  spare  the  brave !  "  cried  in  a  breath 
Bruse,  D'Aincourt,  and  De  Graville. 

William  turned  round  in  wrath  at  the  cry  of  mercy, 
and,  spurring  over  all  the  corpses,  with  the  sacred  banner 
borne  by  Tonstain  close  behind  him,  so  that  it  shadowed 
his  helmet,  he  came  to  the  foot  of  the  standard,  and  for 
one  moment  there  was  single  battle  between  the  knight- 
duke  and  the  Saxon  hero.  Nor  even  then  conquered 
by  the  Norman  sword,  but  exhausted  by  a  hundred 
wounds,  that  brave  chief  fell,  ^  and  the  falchion  vainly 
pierced  him,  falling.  So,  last  man  at  the  standard,  died 
Gurth. 

The  sun  had  set,  the  first  star  was  in  heaven,  the 
"  Fighting  Man  "  was  laid  low,  and  on  that  spot  where 
now,  all  forlorn  and  shattered,  amidst  stagnant  water, 
stands  the  altar-stone  of  Battle  Abbey,  rose  the  glitter- 
ing dragon  that  surmounted  the  consecrated  banner  of 
the  Norman  victor. 

1  Thus  Wace  :  — 

"  Guert  (Gurth)  vit  Engleiz  amenuisier, 
Vi  K'il  n'i  out  nul  recovrier,"  etc. 

"  Gurth  saw  the  English  diminish,  and  that  there  was  no  hope 
to  retrieve  the  day ;  the  duke  pushed  forth  with  such  force  that  he 
reached  him,  and  struck  him  with  great  violence  (par  ijrant  air). 
I  know  not  if  he  died  by  the  stroke,  but  it  is  said  that  it  laid  him 
low." 


HAROLD.  321 


CHAPTER   IX. 

Close  by  his  banner,  amidst  the  piles  of  the  dead, 
AVilliam  the  Conqueror  pitched  his  pavilion,  and  sat 
at  meat.  And  over  all  the  plain,  far  and  near,  torches 
were  moving  like  meteors  on  a  marsh;  for  the  duke 
had  permitted  the  Saxon  women  to  search  for  the 
bodies  of  their  lords.  And  as  he  sat,  and  talked,  and 
laughed,  there  entered  the  tent  two  humble  monks: 
their  lowly  mien,  their  dejected  faces,  their  homely 
serge,  in  mournful  contrast  to  the  joy  and  the  splendor 
of  tlie  Victory-Feast. 

They  came  to  the  Conqueror,  and  knelt. 

"  Rise  up,  sons  of  the  Church, "  said  William,  mildly, 
"  for  sons  of  the  Church  are  toe  !  Deem  not  that  we 
shall  invade  the  rights  of  the  religion  which  we  have 
come  to  avenge.  Nay,  on  this  spot  we  have  already 
sworn  to  build  an  abbey  that  shall  be  the  proudest  in 
the  land,  and  where  masses  shall  be  sung  evermore  for 
the  repose  of  the  brave  Normans  who  fell  in  this  field, 
and  for  mine  and  my  consort's  soul." 

"  Doubtless, "  said  Odo,  sneering,  "  the  holy  men 
have  heard  already  of  this  pious  intent,  and  come  to 
pray  for  cells  in  the  future  abbey." 

"  Not  so, "  said  Osgood,  mournfully,  and  in  barbarous 
Norman:  "we  have  our  own  beloved  convent  at  Wal- 
tham,  endowed  by  the  prince  Avhom  thine  arms  have 
defeated.  We  come  to  ask  but  to  bury  in  our  sacred 
cloisters  the  corpse  of  him  so  lately  king  over  all  Eng' 
land, —  our  benefactor,   Harold." 

VOL.  II.  —  21 


322  HAKOLD. 

The  duke's  brow  fell. 

"And  see,"  said  Ailred,  eagerly,  as  he  drew  out  a 
leathern  pouch,  "  we  have  brought  with  us  all  the  gold 
that  our  poor  crypts  contained,  for  we  misdoubted  this 
day ;  "  and  he  poured  out  the  glittering  pieces  at  the 
Conqueror's  feet. 

"  No !  "  said  William,  fiercely,  "  Ave  take  no  gold  for 
a  traitor's  body ;  no,  not  if  Githa,  the  usurper's  mother, 
offered  us  its  weight  in  the  shining  metal:  unburied  be 
the  Accursed  of  the  Church,  and  let  the  birds  of  prey 
feed  their  young  with  his  carcass  !  " 

Two  murmurs,  distinct  in  tone  and  in  meaning,  were 
heard  in  that  assembly :  the  one  of  approval  from  fierce 
mercenaries,  insolent  with  triumph;  the  other  of  gener- 
ous discontent  and  indignant  amaze  from  the  large  ma- 
jority of  Norman  nobles. 

But  William's  brow  was  still  dark,  and  his  eye  still 
stern,  for  his  policy  confirmed  his  passions;  and  it  was 
only  by  stigmatizing  as  dishonored  and  accursed  the 
memory  and  cause  of  the  dead  king  that  he  could  justify 
the  sweeping  spoliation  of  those  who  had  fought  against 
himself,  and  confiscate  the  lands  to  which  his  own  quens 
and  warriors  looked  for  their  reward. 

The  murmurs  had  just  died  into  a  thrilling  hush, 
when  a  woman,  who  had  followed  the  monks  unper- 
ceived  and  unheeded,  passed,  with  a  swift  and  noiseless 
step,  to  the  duke's  footstool ;  and,  without  bending  knee 
to  the  ground,  said,  in  a  voice  which,  though  low,  was 
heard  by  all :  — 

"Norman,  in  the  name  of  the  women  of  England,  I 
tell  thee  that  thou  darest  not  do  this  wrong  to  the 
hero  who  died  in  defence  of  their  hearths  and  their 
children !  " 

Before  she  spoke  she  had  thrown  back  her  hood :  her 


HAROLD.  323 

hair,  dishevelled,  fell  over  her  shoulders,  glittering 
like  gold  ill  the  hlaze  of  the  banquet-lights;  and  tliat 
wondrous  beauty,  without  parallel  amidst  the  dames  of 
England,  shone  like  the  vision  of  an  accusing  angel  on 
the  eyes  of  the  startled  duke  and  the  breathless  knights. 
But  twice  in  her  life  Edith  beheld  that  awful  man. 
Once,  when  roused  from  her  reverie  of  innocent  love 
by  the  holiday  pomp  of  his  trumps  and  banners,  the 
childlike  maid  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  grassy  knoll; 
and  once  again,  when,  in  the  hour  of  his  triumph  and 
amidst  the  wrecks  of  England  on  the  field  of  Sanguelac, 
with  a  soul  surviving  the  crushed  and  broken  heart,  the 
faith  of  the  lofty  woman  defended  the  hero  dead. 

There,  with  knee  unbent  and  form  unquailing,  with 
marble  cheek  and  haughty  eye,  she  faced  the  Conqueror; 
and,  as  she  ceased,  his  noble  barons  broke  into  bold 
applause. 

"Who  art  tliou?"  said  William,  if  not  daunted  at 
least  amazed.  "  Methinks  I  have  seen  thy  face  before ; 
thou  art  not  Harold's  wife  or  sister'?" 

"Dread  lord,"  said  Osgood,  "she  was  the  betrothed 
of  Harold;  but,  as  within  the  degrees  of  kin,  the 
Church  forbade  their  union,  and  they  obeyed  the 
Church." 

Out  from  the  banquet-throng  stepped  Mallet  de 
Graville.  "0  my  liege,"  said  he,  "thou  hast  prom- 
ised me  lands  and  earldom;  instead  of  these  gifts, 
undeserved,  bestow  on  me  the  right  to  bury  and  to 
honor  the  remains  of  Harold;  to-day  I  took  from  him 
my  life,  let  me  give  all  I  can  in  return,  —  a  grave!  " 

William  paused,  but  the  sentiment  of  the  assembly, 
so  clearly  pronounced,  and  it  may  be  his  own  better 
nature,  which,  ere  polluted  by  plotting  craft  and  hard- 
ened   by   despotic    ire,  was    magnanimous    and    heroic, 


324  HAEOLD. 

moved  and  won  him.  "  Lady,"  said  he,  gently,  "  thou 
appealest  not  in  vain  to  Norman  knighthood:  thy 
rebuke  was  just,  and  I  repent  me  of  a  hasty  impulse. 
Mallet  de  Graville,  thy  prayer  is  granted;  to  thy  choice 
be  consigned  the  place  of  burial,  to  thy  care  the  funeral 
rites  of  him  whose  soul  hath  passed  out  of  human 
judgment." 

The  feast  was  over;  William  the  Conqueror  slept 
on  his  couch,  and  round  him  slumbered  his  Norman 
knights,  dreaming  of  baronies  to  come;  and  still  the 
torches  moved  dismally  to  and  fro  the  waste  of  death, 
and  through  the  hush  of  night  was  heard  near  and  far 
the  wail  of  women. 

Accompanied  by  the  brothers  of  Waltham,  and 
attended  by  link-bearers,  Mallet  de  Graville  was  yet 
engaged  in  the  search  for  the  royal  dead, — and  the 
search  was  vain.  Deeper  and  stiller,  the  autumnal 
moon  rose  to  its  melancholy  noon,  and  lent  its  ghastly 
aid  to  the  glare  of  the  redder  lights.  But,  on  leaving 
the  pavilion,  they  had  missed  Edith:  she  had  gone 
from  them  alone,  and  was  lost  in  that  dreadful  wilder- 
ness.    And  Ailred  said,  despondingly,  — 

"  Perchance  we  may  already  have  seen  the  corpse  we 
search  for,  and  not  recognized  it;  for  the  face  may  be 
mutilated  with  wounds.  And  therefore  it  is  that  Saxon 
wives  and  mothers  haunt  our  battlefields,  discovering 
those  they  search  by  signs  not  known  without  the 
household."  ^ 

"Ay,"  said  the   Norman,  "I   comprehend    thee,    by 

^  The  suggestions  implied  in  tlie  text  will  probably  be  admitted 
as  correct,  when  we  read  iu  the  Saxon  auuals  of  the  recognition  of 
the  dead,  by  peculiar  marks  on  their  bodies;  the  obvious,  or  at 
least  the  most  natural,  explanation  of  those  signs  is  to  be  found  iu 
the  habit  of  puncturing  the  skin,  mentioned  by  the  Malmesbury 
chronicler. 


HAROLD.  325 

the  letter  or  device,  in  which,  according  to  your  cus- 
toms, your  warriors  impress  on  their  own  forms  some 
token  of  affection  or  some  fancied  charm  against  ill." 

"It  is  so,"  answered  the  monk;  "wherefore  I  grieve 
that  we  have  lost  the  guidance  of  the  maid." 

While  thus  conversing,  they  had  retraced  their  steps, 
almost  in  despair,  towards  the  duke's  pavilion. 

"  See,"  said  De  Graville,  "  how  near  yon  lonely  woman 
hath  come  to  the  tent  of  the  duke,  —  yea,  to  the  foot 
of  the  holy  gonfanon,  which  supplanted  'the  Fighting 
Man !  '  Pardex,  my  heart  bleeds  to  see  her  striving  to 
lift  up  the  heavy  dead!  " 

The  monks  neared  the  spot,  and  Osgood  exclaimed, 
in  a  voice  almost  joyful,  — 

"  It  is  Edith  the  Fair !  This  way,  the  torches ! 
hither,    quick!" 

The  corpses  had  been  flung  in  irreverent  haste  from 
either  side  of  the  gonfanon,  to  make  room  for  the  banner 
of  the  conquest  and  the  pavilion  of  the  feast.  Huddled 
together,  they  lay  in  that  holy  bed.  And  the  woman 
silently,  and  by  the  help  of  no  light  save  the  moon, 
was  intent  on  her  search.  She  waved  her  hand  impa- 
tiently as  they  approached,  as  if  jealous  of  the  dead; 
but  as  she  had  not  sought,  so  neither  did  she  oppose, 
their  aid.  Moaning  low  to  herself,  she  desisted  from 
her  task,  and  knelt  watching  them,  and  shaking  her 
head  mournfully,  as  they  removed  helm  after  helm,  and 
lowered  the  torches  upon  stern  and  livid  brows.  At 
length  the  lights  fell  red  and  full  on  the  ghastly  face 
of  Haco,  —  proud  and  sad  as  in  life. 

De  Graville  uttered  an  exclamation :  "  The  king's 
nephew:  be  sure  the  king  is  near!" 

A  shudder  went  over  the  woman's  form,  and  the 
moaning  ceased. 


326  HxVKOLD. 

They  unhelmed  another  corpse;  and  the  monks  and 
the  knight,  after  one  glance,  turned  away  sickened  and 
awe-stricken  at  the  sight :  for  the  face  was  all  defeatured 
and  mangled  with  wounds;  and  nought  could  they 
recognize  save  the  ravaged  majesty  of  what  had  been 
man.  But  at  the  sight  of  that  face  a  wild  shriek  broke 
from  Edith's  heart. 

She  started  to  her  feet,  put  aside  the  monks  with  a 
wild  and  angry  gesture,  and,  bending  over  tlie  face, 
sought  with  her  long  hair  to  wipe  from  it  the  clotted 
blood;  then,  with  convulsive  fingers,  she  strove  to 
loosen  the  buckler  of  the  breast-mail.  The  knight 
knelt  to  assist  her.  "No,  no,"  she  gasped  out.  "He 
is  mine,  —  mine  now  !  " 

Her  hands  bled  as  the  mail  gave  way  to  her  efforts; 
the  tunic  beneath  was  all  dabbled  with  blood.  She 
rent  the  folds,  and  on  the  breast,  just  above  the  silenced 
heart,  were  punctured,  in  the  old  Saxon  letters,  the  word 
"Edith;"  and  just  below,  in  characters  more  fresh, 
the  word  "England." 

"See,  see!"  she  cried,  in  piercing  accents;  and, 
clasping  the  dead  in  her  arms,  she  kissed  the  lips,  and 
called  aloud,  in  words  of  the  tenderest  endearments,  as 
if  she  addressed  the  living.  All  there  knew  then  that 
the  search  was  ended,  —  all  knew  that  the  eyes  of  love 
had  recognized  the  dead. 

"  Wed,  wed,"  murmured  the  betrothed  ;  "  wed  at  last? 
O  Harold,  Harold!  the  words  of  the  Vala  were  true, — 
and  Heaven  is  kind!"  and  laying  her  head  gently  on 
the  breast  of  the  dead,  she  smiled  and  died. 

At  the  east  end  of  the  choir  in  the  abbey  of  Waltham 
was  long  shown  the  tomb  of  the  last  Saxon  king,  in- 
scribed with  the  touching  words,  "Harold  Infelix." 
But  not  under  that  stone,  according  to  the  chronicler 


HAROLD.  327 

■who  should  hest  know  the  truth, ^  mouldered  the  dust 
of  him  in  whose  grave  was  buried  an  epoch  in  human 
annals. 

"  Let  his  corpse,"  said  William  the  Norman  —  "  let  his 
corpse  guard  the  coasts  which  his  life  madly  defended. 
Let  the  seas  wail  his  dirge  and  girdle  his  grave,  and  liis 
spirit  protect  the  land  which  hath  passed  to  the  Norman's 
sway." 

And  Mallet  de  Graville  assented  to  the  word  of  his 
chief,  for  his  knightly  heart  turned  into  honor  the  latent 
taunt ;  and  well  he  knew  that  Harold  could  have  chosen 
no  burial-spot  so  worthy  his  English  spirit  and  his 
Koman  end. 

The  tomb  at  Waltham  would  have  excluded  the 
faithful  ashes  of  the  betrothed,  whose  heart  had  broken 
on  the  bosom  she  had  found ;  more  gentle  was  the  grave 
in  the  temple  of  Heaven,  and  hallowed  by  the  bridal 
death-dirge  of  the  everlasting  sea. 

So,  in  that  sentiment  of  poetry  and  love  which  made 
half  the  religion  of  a  Norman  knight,  IMallet  de  Graville 
sufl'ercd  death  to  unite  those  whom  life  had  divided.  In 
the  holy  burial-ground  that  encircled  a  small  Saxon 
cliapel  on  the  shore,  and  near  the  spot  on  which  William 
had  leaped  to  land,  one  grave  received  the  betrothed; 
and  the  tomb  of  Waltham  only  honored  an  empty  name. 

Eiglit  centuries  have  rolled  away,  and  where  is  the 
Norman  now?  or  where  is  not  the  Saxon?  The  little 
urn  that  sufficed  for  the  mighty  lord  ^  is  despoiled  of  his 

^  Tlie  contemporary  Norman  chronicler,  William  of  Poitiers. 

2  "  Eex  magnus  parva  jacet  hie  Gulielmus  in  urna.  — 
Sufficit  et  maguo  parva  Domus  Domino." 
From   William   the   Conqueror's   epitaph    (ap-Gemiticen).     His 
bones  are  said  to  liave  been  disinterred  some  centuries  after  his 
death. 


28  HAROLD. 


very  dust;  but  the  tombless  shade  of  the  kingly  freeman 
still  guards  the  coasts  and  rests  upon  the  seas.  In  many 
a  noiseless  field,  with  Thoughts  for  Armies,  your  relics, 
0  Saxon  Heroes,  have  won  back  the  victory  from  the 
bones  of  the  Norman  saints;  and  whenever,  with  fairer 
fates,  Freedom  opposes  Force,  and  Justice,  redeeming 
the  old  defeat,  smites  down  the  armed  Frauds  that 
would  consecrate  the  wrong,  —  smile,  0  soul  of  our 
Saxon  Harold,  smile,  appeased,  on  the  Saxon's  land! 


NOTES. 


Page  28.     Unguents  used  bt  "Witches. 

Lord  Bacon,  speaking  of  the  ointments  used  by  the  witches, 
supposes  that  they  really  did  produce  illusions  by  stopping  the 
vapors  and  sending  thera  to  the  liead.  It  seems  that  all  witches 
who  attended  the  sabbat  used  these  unguents,  and  there  is  some- 
thing very  remarkable  in  the  concurrence  of  their  testimonies  as 
to  the  scenes  they  declared  themselves  to  have  witnessed,  not  in  the 
body,  which  they  left  behind  bvi*-  as  present  in  the  soul ;  as  if  the 
same  anointments  and  preparatives  produced  dreams  nearly  sim- 
ilar in  kind.  To  the  believers  in  mesmerism  I  may  add,  that  few 
are  aware  of  the  extraordinary  degree  to  which  somnambulism 
appears  to  be  heightened  by  certain  chemical  aids ;  and  the  disbe- 
lievers in  that  agency,  who  have  yet  tried  the  experiments  of  some 
of  those  now  neglected  drugs  to  which  the  medical  art  of  the 
Middle  Ages  attached  peculiar  virtues,  will  not  be  inclined  to  dis- 
pute the  powerful,  and,  as  it  were,  systematic  effect  which  certain 
drugs  produce  on  the  imagination  of  patients  with  excitable  and 
nervous  temperaments. 

Page  32.     Hilda's  Adjurations. 

"By  the  Urdar-fount  dwelling, 
Day  by  day  from  the  rill, 
The  Nomas  besprinkle 
The  ash  Ygg:  Dnissill." 

The  ash  Ygg-drassill.  —  Much  learning  has  been  employed  by 
Scandinavian  scholars  in  illustrating  the  symbols  supposed  to  be 
couched  under  the  myth  of  the  Ygg-drassill  or  the  great  Ash-tree. 
With  this  I  shall  not  weary  the  reader  ;  especially  since  large  sys- 
tems have  been  built  on  very  small  premises,  and  the  erudition  em- 
ployed has  been  equally  ingenious  and  unsatisfactory :  I  content 
myself  with  stating  the  simple  myth. 


330  NOTES. 

The  Ygg-drassill  has  three  roots  ;  two  spring  from  the  iufernal 
regious,  —  that  is,  from  the  home  of  the  frost-giants,  and  from 
NitHheim,  "vapor-home,  or  hell"  —  one  from  the  heavenly  abode 
of  the  Asas.  Its  branches,  says  the  Prose  Edda,  extend  over  the 
whole  universe,  and  its  stem  bears  up  the  earth.  Beneath  the 
root,  which  stretches  through  Niffl-heim,  and  which  the  snake- 
king  continually  gnaws,  is  the  fount  whence  flow  the  iufernal 
rivers.  Beneath  the  root,  which  stretches  in  the  laud  of  the 
giants,  is  Miniir's  well,  wherein  all  wisdom  is  concealed  ;  but 
uuder  the  root,  wliich  lies  in  tlie  laud  of  the  gods,  is  the  well  of 
Urda,  the  Noma,  —  here  the  gods  sit  in  judgment.  Near  this 
well  is  a  fair  l)uilding,  whence  issue  the  tliree  maidens,  Urda,  Ver- 
daudi,  Skulda  (the  Past,  the  Present,  tlie  Future).  Daily  they 
water  the  ash-tree  from  Urda's  well,  that  the  branches  may  not 
perish.  Four  harts  constantly  devour  the  buds  and  bi'anches  of 
the  Ash-tree.  On  its  boughs  sits  an  eagle,  wise  iu  much;  and 
between  its  eyes  sits  a  hawk.  A  squirrel  runs  up  and  down  the 
tree,  sowing  strife  between  the  eagle  and  the  snake. 

Such,  in  brief,  is  the  account  of  the  myth.  For  the  various  in- 
ter})retations  of  its  symbolic  meaning  the  general  reader  is  re- 
ferred to  Mr.  Black  well's  edition  of  Mallett's  "  Nortlieru  Antiqui- 
ties," and  Pigott's  "  Scandinavian  Manual." 


'O^ 


Page  175.     Harold's  Accession, 

There  are,  as  is  well  known,  two  accounts  as  to  Edward  the 
Confessor's  death-bed  disposition  of  the  English  crown.  The 
Norman  chroniclers  affirm,  first,  that  Edward  ])romised  William 
the  crown  during  his  exile  in  Normandy ;  secondly,  that  Siward, 
Earl  of  Northumbria,  Godv/in,  and  Leofric  had  taken  oath,  "  ser- 
meiit  de  la  main,"  to  receive  liim  as  Seigneur  after  Edward's  death, 
and  that  the  hostages,  Wolnoth  and  Haco,  were  given  to  the  Duke 
in  jiledge  of  tliat  oath  ;  ^  thirdly,  that  P^dward  left  him  the  crown 
by  will. 

Let  us  see  what  probability  there  i-s  of  truth  in  these  three 
assertions. 

First,  Edward  promised  William  the  crown  when  in  Normandy. 

This  seems  probable  enough,  and  it  is  corroborated  indirectly  by 
the  Saxon  clironiclers,  when  they  unite  in  relating  Edward's  warn- 
ings to  Harold  against  his  visit  to  the  Norman  court.     Edward 

1  William  of  Poitiers. 


NOTES.  331 

might  well  be  aware  of  William's  designs  on  the  crown  (though  in 
those  warnings  he  refrains  from  mentioning  them),  —  might  re- 
member the  authority  given  to  those  designs  by  his  own  early 
promise,  and  know  the  secret  purpose  for  which  the  hostages  were 
retained  by  William,  and  the  advantages  he  would  seek  to  gain 
from  having  Harold  himself  in  his  power.  But  this  promise  ia 
itself  was  clearly  not  binding  on  the  English  people,  nor  on  any 
one  but  Edward,  who,  without  the  sanction  of  tlie  Witau,  could 
not  fulfil  it.  And  that  William  himself  could  not  have  attached 
great  importance  to  it  during  Edward's  life  is  clear,  because,  if  he 
had,  the  time  to  urge  it  was  when  Edward  sent  into  Germany  for 
the  Atheling,  as  the  heir  presumptive  of  the  throne.  This  was  a 
virtual  annihilation  of  the  promise  ;  but  William  took  no  step  to 
urge  it,  made  no  complaint  and  no  remonstrance. 

Secondly,  That  Godwin,  Siward,  and  Leofric  had  taken  oaths  of 
fealty  to  WiUiam. 

This  appears  a  fable  wliolly  without  foundation.  When  could 
those  oaths  have  been  pledged  ?  Certainly  not  after  Harold's 
visit  to  William,  for  they  were  then  aU  dead.  At  the  accession  of 
Edward  1  This  is  obviously  contradicted  by  the  stipulation  which 
Godwin  and  the  other  chiefs  of  the  Witan  exacted,  that  Edward 
should  not  come  accompanied  by  Norman  supporters ;  by  the  evi- 
dent jealousy  of  the  Xormans  entertained  by  those  chiefs,  as  I)y 
the  whole  English  people,  who  regarded  the  alliance  of  Ethelred 
with  the  Norman  Emma  as  the  cause  of  the  greatest  calamities ; 
and  by  the  marriage  of  Edward  himself  with  Godwin's  daughter, 
a  marriage  which  that  Earl  might  naturally  presume  would  give 
legitimate  heirs  to  the  throne.  —  In  the  interval  between  Ed- 
ward's accession  and  Godwin's  outlawry  ?  No ;  for  all  the  Eng- 
lish chroniclers,  and,  indeed,  the  Norman,  concur  in  representing 
the  iU-will  borne  liy  Godwin  and  his  House  to  the  Norman  favor- 
ites, whom,  if  they  could  have  anticipated  William's  accession,  or 
were  in  any  way  bound  to  William,  they  would  have  naturally 
conciliated.  But  Godwin's  outlawry  is  the  result  of  the  breach 
between  him  and  the  foreigners.  —  In  William's  visit  to  Edward  ? 
No  ;  for  that  took  place  when  Godwin  was  an  exile;  and  even  the 
writers  who  assert  Edward's  early  promise  to  William  declare 
that  nothing  was  then  said  as  to  the  succession  to  the  throne.  To 
Godwin's  return  from  outlawry  the  Norman  chroniclers  seem  to 
refer  the  date  of  this  pretended  oath,  by  the  assertion  that  the 
hostages  were  given  in  pledge  of  it.     This  is  the  most  monstrous 


332       ~  NOTES. 

supposition  of  all:  for  Godwin's  return  is  followed  by  the  banish 
nieut  of  the  Norman  favorites ;  by  the  utter  downfall  of  the  Nor- 
man party  in  England ;  by  the  decree  of  the  Witan,  that  all  the 
troubles  in  England  had  come  from  the  Normans  ;  by  the  trium- 
phant ascendancy  of  Godwin's  House.  And  is  it  credible  for  a 
moment,  that  the  great  English  Earl  could  then  have  agreed  to  a 
pledge  to  transfer  the  kingdom  to  the  very  party  he  had  expelled, 
and  expose  himself  and  his  party  to  the  vengeance  of  a  foe  he  had 
thoroughly  crushed  for  the  time,  and  whom,  without  any  motive 
or  object,  he  himself  agreed  to  restore  to  power  for  his  own  prob- 
able perdition?  When  examined,  this  assertion  falls  to  the  ground 
from  other  causes.  It  is  not  among  the  arguments  that  William 
uses  in  his  embassies  to  Harold ;  it  rests  mainly  upon  the  author- 
ity of  William  of  Poitiers,  who,  though  a  contemporary,  and  a 
good  authority  on  some  points  purely  Norman,  is  grossly  ignoi-ant 
as  to  the  most  accredited  and  acknowledged  facts,  in  all  that  relate 
to  the  English.  Even  with  regard  to  the  hostages,  he  makes  the 
most  extraordinary  blunders.  He  says  they  were  sent  by  Edward, 
with  the  consent  of  his  nobles,  accompanied  by  Roliert,  Arclibishop 
of  Canterbury.  Now  Robert,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  had  fled 
from  England  as  fast  as  he  could  fly  on  the  return  of  Godwin ; 
and  arrived  in  Normandy,  half  drowned,  before  the  hostages  were 
sent,  or  even  before  the  Witan  which  reconciled  Edward  and 
Godwin  had  assembled.  He  says  that  William  restored  to  Harold 
"  his  young  brother ; "  whereas  it  was  Haco,  the  nephew,  who  was 
restored  ;  we  know,  by  Norman  as  well  as  iSaxou  chroniclers,  that 
Wolnoth,  the  brother,  was  not  released  till  after  the  Conqueror's 
death  (he  was  re-imprisoned  by  Rufus) ;  and  his  partiality  may  be 
judged  by  the  assertions,  first,  that  "  William  gave  nothing  to  a 
Norman  that  was  unjustly  taken  from  an  Englishman ;  "  and,  sec- 
ondly, that  Odo,  whose  horrible  oppressions  revolted  even  William 
himself,  "never  had  an  equal  for  justice,  and  that  all  the  English 
obeyed  him  willingly." 

We  may,  therefore,  dismiss  this  assertion  as  utterly  groundless, 
on  its  own  merits,  without  directly  citing  against  it  the  Saxon 
authorities. 

Thirdly,  That  Edward  left  William  the  crown  by  will. 

On  this  assertion  alone,  of  the  tliree,  the  Norman  Conqueror 
himself  seems  to  have  rested  a  positive  claim. i     But  if  so,  where 

1  He  is  considered  to  refer  to  sucli  bequest  in  one  of  his  charters  :  "  Devicto 
Haroldo  rege  cum  suis  complicibus  qui  miehi  reguuui  prudentia  Domini  destina- 


NOTES.  833 

was  the  will  ?  Whj'  was  it  never  produced  or  producihle  ?  If 
destroyed,  where  were  tlie  witnesses "?  why  were  they  not  cited  ? 
The  testamentary  dispositions  of  an  Anglo-Saxon  king  were  al- 
ways respected,  and  went  far  towards  the  succession.  But  it  was 
al)solutely  necessary  to  prove  them  before  the  Witan.^  An  oral 
act  of  this  kind,  in  the  words  of  the  dying  Sovereign,  would  be 
legal,  but  they  must  be  confirmed  by  those  who  heard  them. 
Why,  when  William  was  master  of  England,  and  acknowledged  by 
a  National  Assembly  convened  in  London,  and  when  all  who 
heard  the  dying  King  would  have  been  naturally  disposed  to  give 
every  evidence  in  William's  favor,  not  only  to  flatter  the  new 
sovereign,  but  to  soothe  the  national  pi-ide,  and  justify  the  Norman 
succession  by  a  more  popular  plea  than  conquest,  —  why  were  no 
witnesses  summoned  to  prove  the  bequest  ?  Aired,  Stigand,  and 
tlie  Abbot  of  Westminster  must  have  been  present  at  the  death- 
bed of  tlie  King,  and  these  priests  concurred  in  submission  to 
William.  If  tiiey  had  any  testimony  as  to  Edward's  bequest  in 
his  favor,  would  they  not  liave  been  too  glad  to  give  it,  in  justifica- 
tion of  themselves,  in  compliment  to  William,  in  duty  to  the 
people,  in  vindication  of  law  against  force?  But  no  such  attempt 
at  proof  was  ventured  upon. 

Against  these,  the  mere  assertion  of  William,  and  the  authority 
of  Normans  who  could  know  nothing  of  the  truth  of  the  matter, 
while  they  had  every  interest  to  misrepresent  the  facts,  —  we  have 
the  positive  assurances  of  tlie  best  possible  authorities.  Tlie 
Saxon  Chronicle  (worth  all  the  other  annalists  put  together)  says 
expressly  that  Edward  left  the  crown  to  Harold  •  — 

"  The  sage,  ne'ertheless, 
The  realm  committed 
To  a  highly-born  man ; 
Harold's  self, 
The  noble  Earl. 
He  in  all  time 


turn,  et  beneficio  coneessionis  Domini  et  cognati  mei  gloriosi  regis  Edwardi  con- 
cessuni  conati  sunt  auferre."  —  Forf.stina,  A.  3. 

But  William's  word  is  certainly  not  to  be  taken,  for  he  never  scrupled  to  break 
it ;  and  even  in  these  words  he  does  not  state  that  it  was  left  him  by  Edward's 
will,  but  destined  and  given  to  him,  —  words  founded,  perhaps,  solely  on  the 
promise  referred  to,  before  Edward  came  to  the  throne,  corroborated  by  some 
messages  in  the  earlier  years  of  his  reign,  through  the  Norman  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury,  who  seems  to  have  been  a  notable  intriguer  to  that  end. 

'  Palgea.v£  :  "Commonwealth,"  p.  560. 


4  NOTES. 


Obeyed  faithfully 
His  rightful  lord, 
By  words  and  deeds  ; 
Nor  aught  neglected 
Which  needful  was 
To  his  sovereign  king." 

Florence  of  Worcester,  the  next  best  .intliority  (valuable  from 
su])plyiug  omissions  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle),  says  expressly 
that  the  King  chose  Harold  for  his  successor  before  his  decease,^ 
that  he  was  elected  by  the  chief  men  of  all  England,  and  conse- 
crated by  Aired.  Hoveden,  Simon  (Dnnelm),  the  Beverley  chron- 
icler confirm  these  authorities  as  to  Edward's  choice  of  Harold  as 
his  successor.  William  of  Malmeshury,  who  is  not  partial  to 
Harold,  writing  in  the  reign  of  Henry  the  First,  has  doubts  him- 
self as  to  Edward's  bequest  (tliougli  grounded  on  a  very  l)ad  argu- 
ment, namel}',  "tlie  imjirobability  that  Edward  would  leave  his 
ci'own  to  a  man  of  whose  power  he  had  always  been  jealous  ;  "  there 
is  no  proof  that  Edward  had  l)een  jealous  of  IlarohVs  power,  —  he 
had  been  of  Gochvin's) ;  but  Malmeshury  gives  a  more  valuable 
autliority  tlian  his  own,  in  tiie  concurrent  opinion  of  his  time,  for 
he  deposes  that  "  tlte  Enijllsh  sujj  "  the  diadem  was  granted  him 
(Harold)  by  the  King. 

These  evidences  are,  to  say  the  least,  infinitely  more  worthy  of 
historical  credence  than  the  one  or  two  English  chroui^ders,  of 
little  comparative  estimation  (such  as  Wike),  and  the  prejudiced 
and  ignorant  Norman  chroniclers  -  who  depose  on  behalf  of  Wil- 
liam. I  assume,  therefore,  that  Edward  left  the  crown  to  Harold  ; 
of  Harold's  better  claim  in  the  election  of  the  Witan,  there  is  no 
doubt.  But  Sir  F.  Palgrave  starts  the  notion  that,  "  admitting 
that  the  prelates,  eaids,  aldermen,  and  thanes  of  Wessex  and  East- 
Anglia  had  sanctioned  the  accession  of  Harold,  their  decision  could 
not  have  been  obligatory  on  the  other  kingdoms  (jtrovinces) ;  and 
the  very  short  time  elapsing  between  tlie  death  of  Edward  and  the 

1  "  Quo  tumulato,  suhregulus  Ilaroldns  Godwin  Ducis  Alius,  quem  rex  ante 
suam  decessionem  regni  sneeessnrem  elesrernt,  a  totius  Anglipe  primatibus,  ad 
regale  culuien  electus,  die  eodem  ab  Aldredo  Eboracensi  Archiepiscopo  in  regem 
est  hnnorifice  consecratus."  —  Flor.  Wi(/. 

-  Some  of  these  Norman  chroniclers  tell  an  absurd  story  of  Harold  seizing  the 
crown  from  the  hand  of  the  bishop,  and  putting  it  liimself  on  his  head.  The 
Bayeux  Tapestry,  which  is  VVilliani's  most  connected  apology  for  his  claim, 
shows  no  such  violence  ;  but  Harold  is  represented  as  crowned  very  peaceably. 
With  more  art  (as  I  have  observed  elsfwhere),  the  Tapestry  represents  Stigand 
as  crowning  him  instead  of  Aired  ;  Stigand  being  at  that  time  under  the  Pope's 
interdict. 


NOTES.  335 

recognition  of  Harold,  utterly  precludes  the  supposition  that  their 
conscut  was  even  a.^ked."  This  great  writer  must  permit  me,  with 
all  revereuce,  to  suggest  that  he  has,  I  thiuk,  forgotten  the  fact, 
tliat  just  prior  to  Edward's  deatli,  an  assembly,  fully  as  numerous 
as  ever  met  in  any  national  Witau,  had  been  convened  to  attend 
the  consecration  of  the  new  abbey  and  church  of  Westminster, 
which  Edward  considered  the  great  work  of  his  life  ;  that  assemldy 
would  certainly  not  liave  dispersed  during  a  period  so  short  and 
anxious  as  the  mortal  illness  of  the  King,  which  appears  to  liave 
prevented  his  attending  the  ceremony  in  person,  and  which  ended 
in  his  death  a  very  few  days  after  the  consecration.  So  that  dur- 
ing the  interval,  which  appears  to  have  been  at  most  about  a 
week,  between  Edward's  death  and  Harold's  coronation,i  the  unus- 
ually large  concourse  of  prelates  and  nobles  from  all  parts  of  the 
kingdom  assembled  in  London  and  Westminster  would  have  fur- 
nished the  numbers  requisite  to  give  weight  and  sanction  to  the 
Witan.  And  had  it  not  been  so,  the  Saxon  chroniclers,  and  still 
more  the  Norman,  would  scarcely  have  omitted  some  remark  in 
qualification  of  tlie  election.  But  not  a  word  is  said  as  to  any  in- 
adecjuate  number  in  the  Witan.  And  as  for  the  two  great  princi 
palities  of  Northumbria  and  Mercia,  Plarold's  recent  marriage 
with  the  sister  of  their  earls  might  naturally  tend  to  secure  their 
allegiance. 

Nor  is  it  to  be  forgotten  that  a  very  numerous  Witan  had  assem- 
bled  at  Oxford  a  few  mouths  before,  to  adjudge  the  rival  claims  of 
Tostig  and  Morcar ;  the  decision  of  tiie  Witau  proves  the  alliance 
between  Harold's  party  and  that  of  the  young  earls,  —  ratified  by 
the  marriage  with  Aldyth.  And  he  who  has  practically  engaged 
in  the  contests  and  cabals  of  party  will  allow  the  probability, 
adopted  as  fact  in  the  romance,  that,  considering  Edward's  years 
and  infirm  liealtli,  and  the  urgent  necessity  of  determining  before- 
hand tiie  claims  to  the  succession,  —  some  actual,  if  secret,  under- 
standing was  then  come  to  by  the  leading  chiefs.  It  is  a  common 
error  in  history  to  regard  as  sudden,  that  which  in  the  nature  of 
affairs  never  can  be  sudden.  All  that  paved  Harold's  way  to  the 
throne  must  have  been  silently  settled  long  before  the  day  in 
which  the  Witan  elected  him  unanimi  omnium  consensu.'^ 

1  Edward  died  January  5th.  Harold's  coronation  is  said  to  have  taken  plaoo 
January  12th;  but  there  is  no  very  satisfactory  evidence  as  to  the  precise  day  ; 
indeed  some  writers  would  imply  that  he  was  crowned  the  day  after  Edward' 3 
death,  which  is  scarcely  possible. 

2  Vit.  Harold.  Uhron.  Ang.  Norm. 


336  NOTES. 

With  the  views  to  which  my  examination  of  the  records  of  the 
time  have  led  me  in  favor  of  Harold,  I  cannot  but  think  that  Sir 
F.  Palgrave,  in  his  admirable  History  of  Anglo-Saxon  England, 
does  scanty  justice  to  the  Last  of  its  kings  ;  and  that  his  pe- 
culiar political  and  constitutional  theories,  and  his  attachment  to 
the  principle  of  hereditary  succession,  which  make  him  cou.^ider 
that  Harold  "  had  no  clear  title  to  the  crown  any  way,"  tincture 
with  sometliing  like  the  prejudice  of  party  his  estimate  of  Harold's 
character  and  pretensions.  My  profound  admiration  for  Sir  F. 
Palgrave's  learning  and  judgment  would  not  permit  me  to  make 
this  remark  without  carefully  considering  and  re-weighing  all  the 
contending  autliorities  on  which  he  himself  relies.  And  I  own 
that,  of  all  modern  historians,  Thierry  seems  to  rae  to  have  given 
the  most  just  idea  of  the  great  actors  in  the  tragedy  of  the  Norman 
invasion,  though  I  incline  to  believe  that  he  has  overrated  the 
oppressive  influence  of  the  Isorman  dynasty  in  which  the  tragedy 
closed. 

Page  196.     Physical  PEcnLiARiTiES  of  the  Scandixavians. 

"  It  is  a  singular  circumstance,  that  in  almost  all  the  swords  of 
those  ages  to  be  found  in  the  collection  of  weapons  in  the  Anti- 
quarian Museum  at  Copenhagen,  the  handles  indicate  a  size  of 
hand  very  much  smaller  than  the  hands  of  modern  people  of  any 
class  or  rank.  No  modern  dandy,  with  the  most  delicate  hands, 
would  find  room  for  his  hand  to  grasp  or  wield  with  ease  some  of 
the  swords  of  these  Northmen."  ^ 

This  peculiarity  is  by  some  scholars  adduced,  not  without  reason, 
as  an  argument  for  the  Eastern  origin  of  the  Scandinavian.  Nor 
was  it  uncommon  for  the  Asiatic  Scythians,  and  indeed  many  of 
the  early  warlike  tribes  fluctuating  between  tlie  east  and  west  of 
Europe,  to  be  distinguished  by  the  blue  eyes  and  yellow  hair  of 
the  north.  The  physical  attributes  of  a  deity  or  a  hero  are  usually 
to  be  regarded  as  those  of  the  race  to  which  he  belongs.  The 
golden  locks  of  Apollo  and  Achilles  are  the  sign  of  a  similar  char- 
acteristic in  the  nations  of  wliich  tliey  are  the  types  ;  and  the  blue 
eye  of  Minerva  lielies  the  absurd  doctrine  that  would  identify  her 
with  the  Egyptian  Naith. 

The  Norman  retained  perhaps  longer  than  the  Scandinavian, 
from  whom  he   sprang,  the  somewhat  effeminate   peculiarity  of 

*  Laing's  Note  to  "  Saorro  Sturleson,"  vol.  iii.  p.  101. 


NOTES.  337 

small  hands  aud  feet;  and  hence,  as  throughout  all  the  nobility  of 
Europe,  the  Norman  was  the  model  for  imitation,  and  the  ruling 
families  in  many  lands  sought  to  trace  from  him  their  descents,  so 
that  characteristic  is,  even  to  our  day,  ridiculously  regarded  as  a 
sign  of  noble  race.  The  Norman  probably  retained  that  peculi- 
arity longer  than  the  Dane,  because  his  habits,  as  a  conqueror, 
made  him  disdain  all  manual  labor;  and  it  was  below  his  kniglitly 
dignity  to  walk,  as  long  as  a  horse  could  be  found  for  him  to  ride. 
But  the  Auglo-Normau  (the  noblest  specimen  of  the  great  cou- 
queriug  family)  became  so  blended  with  the  Saxon,  both  in  blood 
and  in  habits,  that  such  physical  distiuctions  vanished  with  the 
age  of  chivalry.  The  Saxon  blood  in  our  highest  aristocracy  now 
predominates  greatly  over  tlie  Norman ;  and  it  would  be  as  vain  a 
task  to  identify  the  sons  of  Hastings  and  Rollo  by  the  foot  aud 
hand  of  the  old  Asiatic  Scythian,  as  by  the  reddish  auburn  hair 
aud  the  high  features  which  were  no  less  ordinarily  their  type. 
Here  aud  there  such  peculiarities  may  all  be  seen  amongst  plain 
country  gentlemen,  settled  from  time  immemorial  in  the  counties 
peopled  by  the  Anglo-Danes,  and  intermarrying  generally  in  tlieir 
own  provinces ;  but  amongst  the  far  more  mixed  breed  of  the 
larger  lauded  proprietors  comprehended  in  the  Peerage,  the  Saxon 
attributes  of  race  are  strikingly  conspicuous,  and,  amongst  them, 
the  larae  hand  aud  foot  common  with  all  the  Germanic  tribes. 


Pase  327.    The  Interment  of  Harold. 

Here  we  are  met  by  evidences  of  the  most  contradictory  char- 
acter. According  to  most  of  the  English  writers,  the  body  of 
Harold  was  given  by  William  to  Githa,  without  ransom,  and  bur- 
ied at  Waltham.  There  is  even  a  story  told  of  the  geuerosity  of 
the  Conqueror,  in  cashiering  a  soldier  who  gashed  the  corpse  of 
the  dead  hero.  This  last,  however,  seems  to  apply  to  some  other 
Saxon,  and  not  to  Harold.  But  William  of  Poitiers,  who  was  the 
Duke's  own  chaplain,  and  whose  narration  of  the  battle  appears  to 
contain  more  internal  evidence  of  accuracy  than  the  rest  of  his 
chronicle,  expressly  says  that  William  refused  Githa's  offer  of  its 
weight  in  gold  for  the  supposed  corpse  of  Harold,  and  ordered  it 
to  be  buried  on  the  beach,  with  the  taunt  quoted  in  the  text  of 
this  work,  "  Let  him  guard  the  coasts  which  he  madly  occupied  ;  " 
and  on  the  pretext  that  one  whose  cupidity  and  avarice  had  been 
the  cause  that  so  many  men  were  slaughtered  aud  lay  uusepul- 

VOL.  II.  —  22 


oo 


8  NOTES. 


tured,  was  not  worthy  himself  of  a  tomb.  Orderic  confirms  this 
account,  and  says  the  body  was  given  to  William  Mallet  for  that 
purpose. 1 

Certainly,  William  de  Poitiers  ought  to  have  known  best ;  and 
the  probability  of  his  story  is  to  a  certain  degree  borne  out  by  the 
uncertainty  as  to  Harold's  positive  interment,  which  long  pre- 
vailed, and  which  even  gave  rise  to  a  story  related  by  Giraldus 
Cambrensis  (and  to  be  found  also  in  the  Harleian  MSS.),  that 
Harold  survived  the  battle,  became  a  monk  in  Chester,  and  before 
he  died  had  a  long  and  secret  interview  with  Henry  the  First. 
Such  a  legend,  however  absurd,  could  scarcely  have  gained  auy 
credit  if  (as  the  usual  story  runs)  Harold  had  been  formally  bur- 
ied, in  the  presence  of  many  of  the  Norman  barons,  in  Waltham 
Abbey,  —  but  would  very  easily  creep  into  belief,  if  his  body  had 
been  carelessly  consigned  to  a  Norman  knight,  to  be  buried  pri- 
vately by  the  sea-shore. 

Tlie  story  of  Osgood  and  Ailred,  the  childemaister  (school- 
master in  the  monastery),  as  related  by  Palgrave,  and  used  in  this 
romance,  is  recorded  in  a  MS.  of  Waltham  Abbej',  and  was  writ- 
ten somewhere  about  fifty  or  sixty  years  after  the  events,  —  say  at 
the  beginning  of  the  twelfth  century.  These  two  monks  followed 
Harold  to  the  field,  placed  themselves  so  as  to  watch  its  results, 
offered  ten  marks  for  the  body,  obtained  permission  for  the 
search,  and  could  not  recognize  the  mutilated  corpse  until  Osgood 
souglit  and  returned  with  Edith.  In  point  of  fact,  according  to 
this  authority,  it  must  have  been  two  or  three  days  after  the 
battle  before  the  discovery  was  made. 

1  This  William  Mallet  was  the  father  of  Robert  Mallet,  founder  of  the  Priory 
of  Eye,  in  Suffolk  (a  branch  of  the  house  of  Mallet  de  Graville).  —  1'luquet.  He 
was  also  the  ancestor  of  the  great  William  Mallet  (or  Malet,  as  the  old  Scandina- 
vian name  was  now  corruptly  spelt),  one  of  the  illustrious  twenty-five  "constTTa- 
tors  "  of  Magna  Charta.  The  family  is  still  extant;  and  1  have  to  apologize  to 
Sir  Alexander  Malet,  Bart,  (her  Majesty'."?  Minister  at  Stutgard),  Lieut. - 
Colonel  Charles  St.  Lo.  Malet,  the  Rev.  William  Windham  Malet  (Vicar  of 
Ardley),  and  other  members  of  that  ancient  house,  for  the  liberty  taken  with 
the  name  of  their  gallant  forefather. 


THE   END. 


PRICE,  OXE  DOLLAR  PER  VOLUME 


Batulsotncly  i>rt»i<ccl  in  clear  find  beautiful  tyjte  iipoti  su- 
perior pajjer,  illustrated,  handy  in  size,  and  published  at  a 
moderate  2*i'icef  and  in  every  way  adapted  to  library  use. 


THE   ROMANCES    OF 
ALEXANDRE    DUMAS 

THE  complete  set  of  the  standard  edition  of  the  Romances 
of  Alexandre  Dumas  has  hitherto  comprised  sixty  vol- 
umes, and  the  price  has  been  Ninety  Dollars.  By  a  partial 
rearrangement  of  the  volumes,  without  omitting  any  of  the 
stories  or  condensing  them  in  any  way,  the  publishers  are  able 
to  announce  a  new  edition  in  forty-eight  volumes,  at  a  cost  of 
only  a  little  more  than  one-half  of  the  former  published  price, 
affording  two  distinct  advantages  over  the  former  edition,  viz., 
economy  in  price,  and  less  room  on  the  library  shelves,  with- 
out detracting  in  the  least  particular  from  the  value  of  the 
edition  and  the  high  standard  of  manufacture  which  has 
always  characterized  it.  To  add  to  its  attractiveness,  nearly 
150  illustrations  are  included  in  the  set,  comprising  48  frontis- 
pieces in  etching  and  photogravure,  and  96  full-page  pictures 
in  half-tone,  from  historical  portraits  and  original  drawings 
and  paintings  by  French  and  American  artists,  including  Evert 
Van  Muyden,  E.  Abot,  Eugene  Courboin,  Gustave  Dore,  Felix 
Oudart,  F.  Pils,  J.  Wagrez,  Eugene  Grivaz,  F.  T.  Merrill, 
Edmund  H.  Garrett,  etc.  The  set,  4.8  vols.,  decorated  cloth, 
gilt  top,  $48.00.      Half  crushed  morocco,  gilt  top,  $132.00. 

[For  arrangement  of  volumes  see  foUotving  page'] 


HANDY    LIBRARY    SETS 


THE    ROMANCES    OF    ALEXANDRE    DUMAS  —  Continued 

ARRANGEMENT   OF   VOLUMES 
Romances    of    the    Reign    of 


Henry  II. 

The  Two  Dianas,  2  vols. 
The  Duke's  Page,  2  vols. 
The  Horoscope,  and  The  Brigand, 

1  vol. 
5  vols.     12ino.     In  box,  $5.0O 

The  Valois  Romances 

Marguerite  de  Valois,  1  vol. 

The  Forty-Five,  1  vol. 

La  Dame  de  Monsoreau,  1  vol. 

3  vols.    12mo.    In  box,  $3.00 

The  D'Artagnan  Romances 

The  Three  Musketeers,  2  vols. 

Twenty  Years  After,  2  vols. 

Vicomte  de  Bragelonne,  4  vols. 
(Including  "  Bragelonne," 
"Louise  de  Valliere,"  and 
"  The  Iron  Mask.") 

8  vols.    12mo,    In  box,  $8.00 

Romances  of  the  Regency  and 
Louis  XV. 

The    Chevalier    d'Harmental, 

1  vol. 
The  Regent's  Daughter,  1  vol. 
Olyrape  de  Cleves,  2  vols. 

4  vols.     l^mo.    In  box,  S4.00 


The    Marie    Antoinette    Ro- 
mances 

Memoirs  of  a  Physician,  3  vols. 

The  Queen's  Necklace,  2  vols. 

Ange  Pitou,  2  vols. 

Comtesse  de  Chamy,  3  vols. 

Chevalier  de  Maison-Rouge, 

1vol. 
Chauvelin's    Will,    The    Velvet 

Necklace,   and    Blanche   de 

Beaulieu,  1  vol. 
13  vols.    l)Jmo.    In  box,  S12.0O 

The  Napoleon  Romances 

The  Companions  of  Jehu,  2  vols. 
The  Whites  and  the  Blues,  2  vols. 
The  She-Wolves  of  Machecoul, 
2  vols. 

6  vols.     12mo.    In  box,  $600 

Historical  Romances 

Agenor  de  Mauleon,  2  vols. 

Ascanio,  1  vol. 

The  War  of  Women,  1  vol. 

Sylvandire,  1  vol. 

The  Black  Tulip,  and  Tales  of 

the  Caucasus,  1  vol. 
Black,  the  Story  of  a  Dog,  1  vol. 

7  vols.     12mo.    In  box,  $7.00 

The  Count  of  Monte  Cristo 
3  vols.     12mo.    In  box,  S3.00 


THE   NOVELS   OF  JANE   AUSTEN 

TLLUSTRATED   with    12   photogravure   plates    from 

drawings    by    Edmund    H.   Garrett.      6  vols.      12mo. 

Decorated  cloth,  gilt  top,  in  box,  $6.00.     Half  crushed 

morocco,  gilt  top,  S16.50. 

Sense  and  Sensibility,  1  vol.  Mansfield  Park,  1  vol. 

Pride  and  Prejudice,  1  vol.  Emma,  1  vol. 

Northanger  Abbey,  and  Persua-  Lady  Susan,  The  Watson   Let- 

sion,  1  vol.  ters,  etc.,  1  vol. 


OF    STANDARD    NOVELISTS 


THE    NOVELS,   ROMANCES,   AND 
MEMOIRS   OF  ALPHONSE  DAUDET 

TN  new  and  complete  translations  by  Katharine  Prescott 
Wormeley,  Jane  Minot  Sedgwick,  Charles  de  Kay, 
George  Burnham  Ives,  Marian  Mclntyre,  and  Olive 
Edwards  Palmer.  With  16  photogravure  plates  and  32 
full-page  pictures  from  original  drawings  by  noted  French 
artists,  including  Paul  Avril,  Marchetti,  Adrien  Moreau, 
Gustave  Bourgain,  Laurent  Dasrousseaux,  L.  Rossi,  G. 
Roux,  P.  G.  Jeanniot,  and  L.  Kowalsy.  16  vols.  12mo. 
Decorated  cloth,  gilt  top,  in  box,  SI 6.00.  Half  crushed 
morocco,  gilt  top,  $44.00. 


The  Nabob,  2  vols. 

Fromont  and  Risler,  and  Robert 

Helmont,  1  vol. 
Numa  Roumestan,  and  Rose  and 

Ninette,  1  vol. 
Little-What's-His-Name,  and 

Scenes  and  Fancies,  1  vol. 
The  Little  Parish  Church,  and 

The  Evangelist,  1  vol. 
Tartarin  of  Tarascon,  Tartarin 

on  the  Alps,    and   Artists' 

Wives,  1  vol. 
Port  Tarascon,  and    La  Fedor, 

1  vol. 


Sappho,  Between  the  Flies  and 

the  Footlights,  and  Arlatan's 

Treasure,  1  vol. 
Kings  in  Exile,  1  vol. 
Monday  Tales,  Letters  from  My 

Mill,   Letters    to    an   Absent 

One,  1  vol. 
Memories  of  a  Man  of  Letters, 

Notes  on  Life,  Thirty  Years 

in  Paris,  and  Ultima,  1  vol. 
The  Immortal,  and  The  Struggle 

for  Life,  1  vol. 
The  Support  of  the  Family,  1  voL 
Jack,  2  vols. 


THE    ROMANCES    OF   VICTOR    HUGO 

"VIIT^ITH  28  portraits  and  plates.     14  vols.     12mo.   Dec- 
orated cloth,  in  box,  SI 4.00.     Half  calf,  gilt  top, 
or  half  crushed  morocco,  gilt  top,  S38.50. 

Les  Miserables,  5  vols.  The  Man  who  Laughs,  2  vols. 

Toilers  of  the  Sea,  2  vols.  Hans  of  Iceland,  1  vol. 

Ninety-Three,  1  vol.  Bug-Jargal,  Claude  Gueux,  Last 

Notre  Dame,  2  vols.  Day  of  a  Condemned,  etc.  1  vol 


HANDY    LIBRARY    SETS 


THE    NOVELS   AND   ROMANCES 
EDWARD   BULWER   LYTTON 

(LORD    LYTTON) 


OF 


X\^ITH  40  plates,  etched  by  W.  II.  W.  Bicknell,  from 
drawin<^s  bv  Edmund  H.  Garrett.     30  vols.     12mo. 
Decorated  cloth,  gilt  top,  $30.00.     Half  crushed  morocco, 
gilt  top,  $82.50. 


The  Caxton  Novels 

The  Caxtons,  2  vols. 

My  Novel,  3  vols. 

What  will  He  do  with  It  ?  2  vols. 

Novels  of  Life  and  Manners 

Pelham,  and  Falkland,  2  vols. 

The  Disowned,  1  vol. 

Paul  Clifford,  1  vol. 

Godolphin,  1  vol. 

Ernest  Maltravers,  1  vol. 

Alice,  1  vol. 

Night  and  Morning,  1  vol. 

Lucretia,  1  vol. 

Kenelm  Chillingly,  etc.,  2  vols. 

The  Parisians,  2  vols. 


Romances 

Eugene  Aram,  1  vol. 

Pilgrims  of   the    Rhine,   Leila, 

and  Calderon,  etc.,  1  vol. 
Zanoni,  and  Zicci,  1  vol. 
A   Strange    Story,    and    The 

Haunted    and   the   Haunters, 

1  vol. 

Historical  Romances 

Devereux,  1  vol. 

Last  Days  of  Pompeii,  1  vol. 

Rienzi,  1  vol. 

Last  of  the  Barons,  2  vols. 

Harold,  1  vol. 


THE   NOVELS   AND   POEIMS    OF 
GEORGE   ELIOT 

"Y\/'ITH  10  photogravure  plates  and  10  full-page  pictures 

ill  half-tone.    10  vols.     12mo.     Decorated  cloth,  gilt 

top,  in  box,  SlO.OO.    Half  crushed  morocco,  gilt  top,  827.50. 

Romola,  1  vol.  Scenes    of  Clerical    Life,    Silas 
Adam  Bede,  1  vol.  Mamei',  etc.,  1  vol. 

The  Mill  on  the  Floss,  1  vol.  Middlemarch,  2  vols. 

Felix   Holt,   and    Theophrastus  Daniel  Deronda,  2  vols. 

Such,  1  vol.  Poems  and  Essays,  1  vol. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,   &  COMPANY 

Publishers,  254  WASHINGTON  STREET,  BOSTON,  MASS. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    000  367  964    4 


